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trashlie · 2 years ago

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I hope you've gotten some much needed rest and relief. Migraines are the worst. Sorry to pile on more to your inbox. Take care of yourself first!

On the topic of falls. I'd like to point out how in both cases Kousuke and Alyssa were trying to defend Shinae from people who ultimately do not care about them. Yet, despite knowing their toxic behavior it was not enough for them to actually fight back. And how both Nol and Alyssa being cornered by them caused the incident through no real fault of their own. But is there a significant difference for the brothers and not Alyssa falling in after Shinae?

I also want to add. Given the religious imagery surrounding Nol. His plunges into the pool along with the reclamation of his given name could be seen as a symbolic baptism. A form cleansing and transformation. Except that the ritual requires a triple immersion. Nol did promise to retrieve YeongGi one day. So, could it mean he will be submerged in water thrice to fully be reborn as his whole self?

Hi nonny, thank you! Man, I have gotten SO much rest. My gp prescribed me a daily prevention medication to try out on my meds but it was not kidding when it said it makes you drowsy - I lost a whole day yesterday to a sleepy fugue state lol it's... ;~; rough LMAO the quest to fighting off my migraines continues! But thank you for asking! They are a serious plague and I feel like they just get worse and worse each year, so hopefully I can find something that helps out!

Now, as for your ask? I never really thought about these details, but they're SO good so thank you for pointing them out! It's really easy to forget that Kousuke is defending Shinae (and to some degree, himself) against Yui. This isn't the kind of theorizing I ever excel at but I'm going to give it some thought.

At the very base level, I guess there's the idea of involvement - Nol and Kousuke falling with Shinae because they are very much a victim of Yui as Shinae is, where Alyssa doesn't fall because she is more on the "outside" - a lot of the bullying that goes on is because of two separate things: a. they think Shinae is a bully and Alyssa is only targeted because of her affiliation with Shinae; as long as she acts like she has nothing to do with Shinae, she is free from their bullying b. the other bullying seems to be about her sexuality and the girls involved in Shinae's fall didn't seem? to be involved in that part of the bullying (??? maybe? lol). But looking at it even deeper, many of us readers have been anticipating a separate "fall" (from grace) for Alyssa, so it might be that her fall is severely "stunted"? I guess one of the biggest differences here is that while Alyssa was defending Shinae, she also kept flipflopping and insisting she wasn't, whereas Kousuke and Nol were openly defending Shinae, no questions about that. Kousuke was trying to help her, Alyssa wanted to help but was restricted from acting by her own fears and confliction.

I will add a thought that it could just be that quimchee wanted only Shinae to walk away physically hurt by that altercation to demonstrate that though she was the only one harmed, the trauma extended well beyond her (a friend suggested that it's likely the teachers were not fired but instead quit due to their own traumas; we know Shinae's family and friends were badly shaken up) and that even though Alyssa looks like she walked away fine - she winds up becoming a trainee and debuting in an idol group, she appears balanced and happy, she has a boyfriend - she, too, was affected and probably carries layers of scars. I think something worth thinking about is the way those girls' minds worked. Because they believed Shinae to be a bully, they told themselves Shinae deserved what happened. Just moments before the fall, they were accusing Alyssa of still being friends with Shinae - had Alyssa failed to prove they weren't, had she helped Shinae more than she did, had she fallen trying to save Shinae, would they have said the same about her? Their wishy-washiness is even worse than Alyssa's!

Another thought I'm having, while we're on this topic, is that another difference between the boys falling vs Alyssa is that Kousuke is the most "free" of any burden here. He reflexively acted and tried to save Shinae - his falling was not his own doing, but Nol's, and I'm waffling on this point because technically, yes, Nol is the reason they fell - Yui reached out to touch him full-well knowing how he'd react and he did exactly that, dropping everyone and falling himself. On the flipside, Alyssa also inadvertently pushed Shinae and as a result, I don't think there was enough time for her to process what had happened and reach out to help Shinae. So while it's very similar to Noll, it's still different in the execution, I suppose?

And if we want to REALLY read into things, we can get really faux-deep lol. In the case of Shinae + Alyssa vs the bullies, unfortunately, Shinae probably would have been bullied regardless of whether she was friends with Alyssa. From the get go, kids were weird about her and treated her badly, and the kid who was friends with the asshole from her old school could still have spread lies about her. On the other hand, Shinae never would have wound up at the formal if not for her involvement with Nol and Kousuke. We still don't know how much Yui knew of Shinae's involvement with Nol at the time, but you can still draw a line all the way back to Nol: had Shinae never gotten Nol to the hospital and saved Nol and Kousuke's hides, Kousuke never would have extended a favor to Shinae, and without the favor, Yui would not have been manipulating Shinae and trapping her in both an employment contract and blackmailing her into attending the formal. It all still cycles back to Nol. As a result, everyone who falls is involved in Shinae being there at all - including Yui's wig! And I guess in a way, as a result, we've seen that Shinae is very much so still tethered to Kousuke and Nol (and Yui) wheras she and Alyssa are so distant and are no longer entwined.

I especially like your second question because this something I'd NEVER have thought of! I've largely thought of his pool jump as a rebirth - which I guess in some way a baptism is? I am not a very religious person, so forgive my ignorance here! It's not the first time we've seen some kind of religious symbology in ILY so I wouldn't be surprised if you're right on the mark! Because baptisms specifically involve water, I don't think there would be a way to take a metaphorical plunge for him, so a third act sounds very likely! It doesn't have to be exactly the perilous scenarios we've seen, either, I think, as long as the thought and intention is there, maybe? This is really interesting to think about because I like to hope that Nol in the present will feel some kind of.... well maybe not hope exactly, but I hope in learning Shinae's story, he'll borrow some of her strength and try to find that in himself, too?

to fully be reborn as his whole self?

This is the part that's making me think the most about this - because he has to be ready to be his whole self, to embrace all parts of himself, it has to come when he's made the decision to be his whole self. So yes, I think you are absolutely on to something! Though he's embracing Nolan as his identity, we know that's still a part of who he is. Nolan and Yeonggi are very much a part of him, and perhaps a third submersion would when Nol is finally able to embrace all parts of himself? Oh this was good thinking, I'd love to hear what you're thinking, too!

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #Shinae Yoo #Alyssa Cho #Nol #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Kousuke Hirahara #Yeonggi #we'll include Yeonggi too cos in this case he's kind of his own entity lol #i love questions like these because they make me feel like i'm sitting in English class again lakjfjafkjafj lmao #as you guys can tell i tend to approach new episodes in a more emotional way and then stand back and pick up details #so when people come to me with questions like these things i might not have ever thought about on my own i feel so thrilled?#this is the stuff i like about discussions and lmao yes that i miss from being in school!#it's how discussing things with people brings up a new perspective sheds light on things you may never have arrived at on your own

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silkling · 4 years ago

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And here is the next installment of my Falsely Accused AU! I hope everyone likes it.

Falsely Accused: The Discovery

Ultra Magnus was not often a mech of regrets. He couldn’t afford to be. He led a planet. If he regretted too many of his decisions, it would lead to indecision and uncertainty that might cripple him. He had more than just his own pride riding on his shoulders. He had the lives of every Autobot, be it civilian or soldier, weighing him down even more harshly. So no, the Magnus did not often allow himself to regret. But as he stared at the painfully familiar helmet on his desk, he felt the unfamiliar emotion settle heavy in his spark, alongside guilt so strong it almost choked him.

He did not regret often. The few times he did, it was usually because he had made a very severe mistake.

This time, it had been no different.

———

Ultra Magnus sighed as he set aside Jazz’s report, scrubbing a servo down his face. The loss of their informant was blow indeed, but he was mostly relieved that his subordinate had escaped Lockdown unharmed. The bounty hunter was a formidable foe, and for all of Jazz’s skill, the rogue cyber-ninja had managed to offline many mechs both stronger and older than the young bot. Quite frankly, Jazz was lucky to be alive. It was with relief that he signed off on the report, setting the data pad it was on aside to be collected and filed later.

Next, he picked up the data pad that contained this quartex’s reports from Trypticon. The first few were routine inventory reports. Nothing about them sparked much interest. Another was a report on an altercation a Decepticon prisoner had had with a guard. Not surprising, though it was a shame the ‘Con had been offlined in the attempt to subdue him. It was the final report on the data pad that made him pause. It was a medical report from the medic stationed at Trypticon, about the small two-wheeler who had killed Yoketron. The former cyber-ninja had gotten caught in a fight between two other prisoners, and guards had assumed he had been one of the instigators and thus subdued him aptly. It was only after other prisoners had spoken up and the security tapes had been observed to discover the start of the fight that the truth had been revealed. But that wasn’t what the medic raised concerns over in the report. No, they wrote that they believed something was wrong with the young mech’s optics. They’d attempted to treat him, but when they’d gone to remove the visor in an attempt to repair wound to the young bot’s face, he had shifted away. The medic had been unable to convince the mech to let him treat him properly before it had been time to return him to his cell. Magnus paused, his brows furrowing. That was certainly odd. Though, he couldn’t bring himself to be too invested. He simply signed off on the reports and set the data pad aside.

It was hard for him to care much about the mechling who had offlined his oldest friend. He had known Yoketron since before he’d been Magnus. It had felt like a stab to the spark to learn that the Ninja Master had fallen. When he had learned it was Yoketron’s own student, the hot flash of betrayal had only fueled his rage. It had only grown when the report came in that the youngling had also stolen the protoforms. Given all the information and evidence, Ultra Magnus had not had much hesitation when it had come to stripping the youngling of his badge and casting him from the ranks of the Autobots. He’d had even less hesitation in sending him to Trypticon. He may not be a Decepticon, but a traitor of his caliber deserved no other fate. As such, the Magnus could not dredge up concern for the two-wheeler’s odd behavior. He was likely just being anti-social, as reports from the guards suggested him to be. Medics were notoriously soft-sparked, so the Magnus took that particular report with a grain of salt.

His comm. unit buzzed with an incoming call, and the Magnus accepted it. Few mechs had access to his personal comm. link. Only his friends and those on his personal team. Sure enough, Jazz’s voice came over his audials. “Ultra Magnus, sir. You got a minute? I gotta talk with you. It’s about my last mission. It’s…it’s real important, sir.”

“Jazz. Is it about your report? I finished reading it, everything seemed to be in order.”

“It’s…not about the report sir. It’s about somethin’ else that happened while I was on Lockdown’s ship. I didn’t put it in my report. I thought it was more important that I tell you first.”

That was certainly odd. Jazz was not one to ignore protocol, so why would he withhold information from his report? The young ninja was a reasonable bot, with a good helm on his shoulders. A clever youngling. Ultra Magnus didn’t think he’d keep information from the report unless it truly was important to discuss it first.

“Very well. You may come meet me in my office.”

He did not have to wait long. The youngling arrived quickly, and Magnus sent the command for the door to lock behind him. Jazz took the seat in front of his desk, and there was a deeply troubled look on his faceplates even past the visor. He was quiet for a moment, and Magnus was about to prompt him to speak, before he looked up to meet his leader’s gaze.

“Master Yoketron’s last student….did he ever graduate, sir?”

Ultra Magnus startled, a severe frown twisting his lips. “Jazz-“

But the youngling actually cut him off. “Just humor me for a mo’, sir. Please. I promise I’m goin’ somewhere with this.” he said, sounding desperate.

Magnus forced himself to stop and think. He frowned, processor turning over the question. He had always allowed Yoketron to manage the Cyber-Ninja Corps as he saw fit. He had never seen it as his place to infringe on his friend’s domain, so he had kept himself out of his business.

“I do not know.” he said carefully. “Jazz, what does this have to do with your mission?”

Jazz looked away, still looking so troubled. “I’m gettin’ there, sir.” he said. “Just bare with me, please.” He looked back at his leader. “See, I’m pretty sure he didn’t graduate. Master Yoketron only ever took one student at a time, and whenever his student completed their training and graduated, he’d host a formal celebration. It was an event open only to former students, so that the graduated cyber-ninja could meet and forge bonds with their newest brother. Cause all the cyber-ninja saw each other as brothers in arms, see. There ain’t too many of us, so whenever a new one joins the ranks it’s a big deal.” he explained. “I was Master Yoketron’s student before….well, before him.” Ultra Magnus knew who he meant. Though he didn’t know where Jazz was going with this. “I remember my ceremony. But I never attended the ceremony of another. Which meant he didn’t actually complete his trainin’.”

Now, Magnus was starting to get a bad feeling. He frowned, looking his subordinate in the optic. “Jazz. I do not understand what this has to do with your mission.”

Jazz shot him a rueful, bitter grin. Magnus was startled by the uncharacteristic expression. “I don’t think that a bot who hadn’t finished their trainin’ would have what it takes to defeat and offline Master Yoketron, steal the protoforms, and hide them so well that none of our top agents could find them. I don’t think he’d have the means to send them off planet either. He wouldn’t have had the time or resources.” Jazz met his gaze head on. “I don’t think he would have been able to do what he was convicted of.” his voice was soft as he spoke. “But I think there is someone who could do all that and who has the resources for it. An ungraduated cyber-ninja couldn’t,” Here, he reached into his subspace. Magnus’s bad feeling grew worse. “But a graduated, disgraced and exiled cyber-ninja probably could.”

And Jazz put Yoketron’s helmet on the desk in front of Ultra Magnus.

Magnus’s systems briefly stalled, and his spark felt like it froze in his chest. He lifted his gaze from his old friend’s helmet to meet Jazz’s visor.

“Yoketron’s student didn’t offline him, sir. Lockdown did.”

———

After that, Jazz had left the office. He had been called away by another duty, and Ultra Magnus had been left behind with new information, an old friend’s helmet, and regret settling heavy and hard in his tanks. His processor warred with itself, one half desperate for Jazz to be wrong, but the other knowing his was right. It was true.

An ungraduated student would not have the skill to kill his Master. Nor would he have the ability or resources to steal the protoforms. There was also the corrupted security feed, which Magnus had never insisted on de-corrupting. If he had, would it have shown Lockown’s presence at the Dojo that day as well? Even the youngling’s presence at the scene could be explained. As Yoketron’s student, the Dojo would have been his residence at the time. If he hadn’t been there at the time of the attack, then he would have returned to see the Dojo’s ruins…and his Master’s corpse. His discovery at the scene could easily be explained as little more than unfortunate timing. Which meant…

Which meant Ultra Magnus had sentenced an innocent youngling to a fate typically reserved only for the most dangerous prisoners of war and for traitors.

He saw the report from Trypticon out of the corner of his optics, and dread settled in his spark. He had had convicted a youngling of a crime he had didn’t commit, and he had spent mega-cycles paying for it. He had sentenced a youngling for a crime he didn’t commit, and he was still paying for it.

Oh Primus, what had he done?

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wordstro · 4 years ago

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[8:32 PM] + hero/villain au + "you'll help us change the world, whether you want to or not." + part 2

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 masterlist

@thelargefrye you inspired me to write more of this au TT thank u

the aftermath of wooyoung, yeosang, jongho, and seonghwa's betrayal was worse, you think, then the initial betrayal.

"do you think we'll be okay?" you'd asked when you were finally alone with what was left of your alliance, your team.

san gripped the arms of his chair and grit his teeth. yunho closed his eyes. mingi pressed the heels of his hands to face, and kept them there. hongjoong said, with all the anger and grief and brokenness and helplessness you were feeling, "i don't know. i think it's going to get worse. not just...not just the betrayal, but everything."

wooyoung always complained about hongjoong’s realism, his need to explain and analyze outcomes, and you hated that you thought of him still, even after all that happened.

the way wooyoung had left you, trapped under a building with severe burns around your neck, his eyes unrelenting, cold despite the fire curling around him, had remained etched in your mind. to this day, the way hongjoong had pulled you from the rubble with glassy, broken eyes, stayed with you. the memories fueled you when you thought you could not go on. during the press conferences, the attacks on civilians, the moments when you would need to tell someone their loved one was dead because you couldn't protect them, you clung to your need to never see that look on hongjoong's face again.

a year passed since then, and your grief fell way to resentment.

the underground villain organization hit mainstream news every day. they broke into government facilities and banks, leveled entire cities, and at first it was petty, understandable even, but then you stood at headquarters and watched yeosang saunter into a government laboratory with a megaphone and demands anyone who heard him had to oblige to. he walked out with tests, serums, research, and equipment you knew could only mean something sinister. you watched jongho break into a high-level holding facility, bullets bouncing off his skin, and free the most dangerous of superpowered criminals, all with a charming smile on his face as he waved to the security cameras. you could no longer convince san that they would change their minds and come back. they were in this for the long haul and the fighting would go on.

you were so fucking furious, you wanted to join san in his anger, in the way his fingers curled into fists whenever he reported his run ins with them, yeosang and wooyoung especially, and he fought them with a vengeance you never knew existed in him. heroes were not allowed to kill, however, and they all knew that. hongjoong reminded them of it everyday. san despised it. you despised that terror you felt at the idea of killing any of them, wooyoung, yeosang, seonghwa, and jongho. most of all, you despised how much you missed them.

"excuse me? are you getting on?" the bus driver's voice cuts through your thoughts. you tear your eyes off the wanted posters pinned up against the bus stop, apologizing as you hurriedly board the bus.

you take a seat at the back of the bus, as you always do. your phone buzzes in your pocket, a text from mingi lighting up your screen.

as you read mingi's rant about the latest episode of a show you're both watching during your downtime, someone takes a seat behind you. you barely spare them a glance.

that was your first mistake.

the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end. before you can react a soft, sweet voice murmurs, "put down your phone and do not move."

your hands drop to your lap and your muscles seize with how quickly your body adheres to his words. you can't even speak.

it's yeosang.

when you first met him, years ago, he swore he would never use his powers on any of you. your heart sinks to your stomach.

there's a small laugh. shuffling. you don't look up from your lap, from the way mingi's name lights up on your screen as he sends another text. you can't. sweat beads along your forehead from how hard you're trying to break from his persuasion. yeosang's thigh comes into view, right beside yours, as he takes a seat beside you. he reaches over, turning your phone off and dropping it on the floor with a dull thud. then he pats your knee as he murmurs, "now, sleep."

and, you do. you have to.

~.~.~.~.~

"morning, sunshine."

you wake to the sound of metal clanging against metal, your shoulders aching from the way your arms are angled behind your back. it takes a moment to remember yourself and the events that perspired before you fell asleep, but the moment you do, you jolt, pulling against your restraint. your super strength does nothing against the restraints. you can hear them creak and groan as you thrash, but you're chained down to the ground and they know your personal weight records. they know how much resistance it takes to contain you. you can't move your feet at all, since they're encased in heavy metal. they even secured your head. seonghwa has endured one too many headbutts from you during your choreographed fights for him to forget about that. you're trapped.

"are you done?"

you look up, and wooyoung stands with his arms crossed. yeosang sits on the desk beside him, swinging his legs. seonghwa and jongho are nowhere to be seen, but you're almost glad. the way your stomach flips at the sight of wooyoung and yeosang alone makes you want to throw up. you don't think you could handle being in the same room as all four of them. not like this.

beside yeosang stands a masked man with a lab coat. he holds a giant needle and it takes you another moment to register that you're in a makeshift laboratory. your stomach flips once more.

"what the hell is this?"

you can't control the anger in your voice. you hadn't encountered wooyoung since that day, a year ago. san had. mingi and yunho and hongjoong had. but not you. you'd gotten into a brief fight with seonghwa's army of the dead once, during an altercation in busan. you'd fought jongho a few times. but you've mostly encountered other villains working alongside them. never them. everyday, you secretly thanked your luck for that, but it seems your luck has ran out.

wooyoung only looks at you with blank indifference, and your heart twists. your gaze flickers to yeosang, and he looks away the moment you meet his eyes, scratching at his chin in a pointed gesture of nonchalance.

"this is eunwoo," wooyoung says, gesturing at the masked man with the lab coat and large syringe. "he used to work for the Hero-Villain Alliance. not our division of course, but in the biochemical weapons sector. you should say hi."

you grit your teeth, your anger overwhelming. "i don't care who or what he is. what the hell do you want from me?"

"would you believe me if i said i wanted a little reunion?" he raises a brow.

you glare and wooyoung lets out a small laugh. he says, "didn't think so. well, if it's any consolation i really didn't want to do this. i kicked your ass hard enough to last you a lifetime already. it's only poor sportsmanship to remind you of it every time you see me."

"fuck off."

he snorts, "whatever happened to our patient sweet little y/n? yeosang, you sure you got the right person?"

yeosang lets out a small laugh, but it dies quickly when he looks at the masked man - eunwoo - and a chill runs down your back. you're not sure what they're planning, but it can't be good.

"it's been a year, wooyoung. if you think i'm the same person, you're a fucking idiot. both of you."

yeosang looks to his shoes, and wooyoung's jaw clenches, his lopsided grin slipping from his face. the vindictive parts of you relishes in their reactions.

wooyoung merely waves a hand, and eunwoo steps forward. he's tall, too tall, and the way he looms over you makes you involuntarily recoil.

wooyoung joins eunwoo's side, crouching in front of you until he's at eye level with you. you don't look at him, ignoring the way your heart races a tad faster, warily watching eunwoo.

"long story short: the government has been experimenting on our kind. eunwoo here was a part of it. he was one of the experiments. he had a team, too, like us, until some experiments went wrong. that's the shit you uphold."

had. you look up at eunwoo, as best as you can with your head secured, and your heart twists at the thought. you...never knew.

"i...i'm sorry," you say, looking at eunwoo. "but, i can fix it. hongjoong's been advocating and it's working. we want the same things and -"

"shut up."

your mouth clamps shut, not because of yeosang's powers, but because eunwoo's voice is raspy, and so, so angry. it holds the same kind of vengeful anger san's does on the nights you sat with him and tried to talk him out of it. it's terrifying. you unconsciously lean away, closer to wooyoung, and you hate yourself for it.

"do you know why our cause is backed by so many and hongjoong's isn't?" wooyoung asks.

your nails dig into the palms of your hands. you hate how vulnerable you are, restrained here.

"because we are willing to die for our cause. we're willing to make sacrifices. you aren't."

"you're traitors," eunwoo rasps.

"i just want the fighting to stop," your voice cracks, you can't help it, "i want to stop fighting, stop having to tell people that their loved ones are dead, stop fucking trying to piece together the hearts you broke. I want it to stop."

you think of hongjoong and yunho and mingi and san and your attempts to fix something that's only crumbling with each passing day. you think of all the death you've seen. all the destruction. you know, deep down, that they're right. you've attended vigils for your kind, killed out of supposed fear. adults and children, alike. you're angry, yes, resentful even, but most of all you're exhausted.

"if you join us, it can stop."

you blink.

wooyoung merely stares at you, unwavering. the last year has changed you immensely, but you hadn't thought of how much it must have changed them too.

anger surges inside of you.

"join us," he says, so sweetly. your stomach churns when he reaches out and presses a hand to your cheek. a year ago, you might have fell for it. you know it, and so does he. he's always known it, that you were weak for him, for any of them really.

that's what drives you to glare. that's what makes you spit in his face and growl, "no."

something flips in wooyoung's eyes then, his jaw setting in a way where you know you've set something off in him. heat rises from him, burning your skin, reminding you of the burns he left on your neck.

"i wanted you to make this choice freely, but i guess that's not going to happen," he grits, "too bad. you'll help us change the world, whether you want to or not."

wooyoung waves his hand, and eunwoo moves, pulling down the collar of your shirt. wooyoung's gaze flickers to your neck, to the burns he left you, and his eyes soften for just a moment.

you thrash, you scream and yell obscenities, but it's fruitless. eunwoo easily injects with the syringe, right in the heart.

your chest heaves and the injection site burns and eunwoo walks away, shrugging off the lab coat as he goes. you're left with wooyoung and yeosang, your eyes prickling with unshed tears born of anger more than anything.

"what did you do to me?"

"it's a power enhancer we stole from the experimentation trials. we laced it with my powers. in an hour, you'll be unstoppable. a weapon, really," yeosang takes pity on you, his quiet voice ringing throughout the laboratory.

"and under your control," you say aloud what he doesn't say, slumping in your chair.

yeosang merely nods.

you look from yeosang's pitiful gaze to wooyoung's clenched jaw.

"you both really never cared about us, did you?"

yeosang blinks, but before he can respond, before he can give you even the smallest bit of hope, wooyoung answers, "no. never."

your heart withers, breathing shaky as yeosang says, "sleep, y/n."

it's mercy, you realize, yeosang's gentle way of giving you reprieve for a brief moment before everything goes to shit. your eyes grow heavy, even as you see blurry figures reach for you, as you feel hands wiping at the tears on your cheeks. you think you hear wooyoung murmur a soft sorry. but it could also be wishful thinking.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #wooyoung angst #ateez angst #wooyoung #yeosang

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seaswalllow · 3 years ago

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so, the Witcher au, right:

sbi are a thing. and by a thing, i mean phil + techno are old, old witchers- probably school of the bear or wolf, aloof and the stuff of legends, more monster than man [or so the public says]. wilbur is the bard that they rescue- from what isn't important, just that he looks at them, black-eyed and growling, and says hey, these are my witchers now and where their company was two, it is now three and their travels are that much lighter and merrier, and much like they've heard happens elsewhere with the white wolf and his buttercup, wilbur softens their reputation and sweetens their company.

tommy is rescued from a village. there's no village to return to- they barely get there in time to rescue him and one other young man, who takes up their offer to return to the keep. tommy, however, doesn't; tommy much prefers their company, and the company of tubbo, who stays with them whilst captain [griffin school witcher who's adopted him] is off in skellige where tubbo is forbidden from going yet.

so that's our sbi.

to detour for a moment, young jack manifold has recently joined the keep with a lack of elsewhere to go. he's too old to undergo the trial of the grasses, but not too old to learn his way around the world; a young noble lady and her companion- niki and fundy, as he soon finds out- take an interest in him and soon the halls are bursting with raucous cheer. he soon finds out how exactly they came about here- niki was fed up with the poisonous dealings of the court and fundy tired of being forgotten unless he was useful as a court pawn. eret- cat school witcher who'd taken them under her wing- had proven a better home, and they would defend each other to their dying breath. [this, jack finds out with a pleasant sort of surprise after an altercation, extends to him]

nevadas, kinoko- both are kingdoms. quackity ruling over the frivolously wealthy nevadas with an offer extended to fundy as a meaningful part of it, purpled as a cat school witcher, slime as some unknown creature, and foolish in the same boat. kinoko holds karl as king and sapnap and george as his right-hand men, and tina as the kingdom's most talented mage. the tension between these kingdoms swings between "just bed each other already" and "oh good, we're about to have a war"

and sapnap, george- dream team used to be a trio of witchers, before dream was found having broken several codes as a witcher [?] and the team disbanded. all three are wolf school.

a key arc, at one point, is ranboo's arc. here, mages are attempting to replicate the trial of the grasses at older ages, on nonhumans and older boys. the witchers catch wind and have to not only dispatch that particular council + rescue ranboo, but then there's a whole arc about gaining trust because ranboo has gotten a Double Dose of Be Afraid Of Witcher because of his time under mages and as some supernatural creature

tubbo and tommy are instrumental to breaking those walls down, yes, but so are the rest of sbi and the keep because yes <3

a final arc is dream seeding unrest against the witchers that turnt him out, against the kingdoms that spurned him; all he has to do is seed the thought that a particular school or kingdom was responsible for harming and kidnapping one of the witcher's adoptees and the war would take care of itself. bench trio, however, are menaces, and this goes exactly as well as expected.

other misc. notes:

- hannah is viper school, my beloved girlboss. or cat school.

- awesamkids is sam, a crane witcher, having a reputation for adopting. sam nook [thank you river] is his creation and the family's secret. tommy is the newest addition in all but formality [because sam knows better than to dispute sbi's claim on him but offers an informal place anyways.]

- badlands is a collection of mages, mercenaries, and witchers who would all kill and die for one another. punz is a cat school witcher who was purpled's mentor and brother in arms, bad + skeppy are a witcher + mage pair [bad the mage and skeppy the crane witcher], callahan the [redacted]

- i'm forgetting something. i have no clue what tho but i imagine i'll add on

- OH YES eret has been involved in several political assassinations. they don't talk about those anymore

#au tag #dsmp au #dream smp au #tommyinnit #tubbo #technoblade #philza #nihachu #fundy #ranboo #eret #im not. im not tagging Everybody #just the ones who had the most to say

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remmushound · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond the bay chapter 8: Home not-quite home

Tags: @brightlotusmoon @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry

“You’re welcome in our home as long as you need.”

The lair the Splintersons entered in many ways resembled the one they knew. It was big and open, and as clean as one could possibly hope a sewer to be. It wasn’t as cluttered as the lair Leo knew best, and there certainly seemed to be a lot more room and space to stretch out. Graffiti was plentiful, Michelangelo’s style just as abstract and bold as Mikey’s contributions were on the walls back home. Candles were lit on raised shelves to provide a pleasant scent of lavender and spring into the air.

“It’s lovely.” Splinter beamed ear-to-ear as he reached out with his senses to take in everything the living space had to offer. “However did you get it so neat?”

“Donnie thinks it used to be an old survival bunker back before dad found it.” Raphael commented.

“Speaking of which, where is your father?” Splinter asked, “I haven’t seen him in ages and I should like to catch up.”

It was like the very air in the room dropped several degrees, all four Hamato’s stiffening. Raphael clenched his jaw and his fists, while Leonardo and Donatello bunched their shoulders in a similarly tense motion. Splinter frowned and looked to the youngest; Michelangelo’s head ducked so low that only his eyes were peeking over the edge of his plastron.

“He uh…” Raphael started, then immediately stopped when no words that came to mind sounded right.

“He’s taking a nap.” Leonardo assisted, a hand going out to grip Raphael’s; Raphael returned the pressure as he let himself breathe. “He doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

“Of course.” Splinter nodded slowly, tail twitching a sign to his confused sons to not question the situation further. “Us old rats certainly need our rest.”

Splinter laughed. Encouraged by the rats happy noise, Michelangelo slowly peeked his head back out of his shell with a slight giggle and smile. No one seemed to know what to say. The box turtle brothers shouldered their way deeper into the lair to start exploration of the place that would shelter them. Mikey, with Klunk in one arm, went to pluck a lit candle off of a shelf to smell; a sharp rebuttal from Splinter’s tail was all it took to correct and remind him not to touch. He still wanted to stay there to admire the plumes of smoke, but his entourage of older brothers forced him to keep going; not one of them had any plans of leaving their brother to his own devices. Not when his right side was so tight he could hardly move it. That, plus this strange new environment, made the instinct to protect the smallest brother grew to new heights. Slowly, like a herd of lumbering cattle, they made their way deeper into the living room area. Raph couldn’t help but whistle at the sight of the beautiful decor, admiring the fancy couch and neat stitch-work on the hand-made cushions. Donnie was more enraptured by the projection screen than anything else, his eyes like specks of gold in the earth as he approached the machine with eager chirps, only to be met with the same painful reminder from Splinter to not touch.

Raph gave a snort and shook his head before turning his full attention back to his friends, shifting his toothpick to the opposite side of his mouth. Michelangelo remained focused on the small piece of wood, his eyes like pin pricks at the nasty habit. He had figured Raph would eventually grow out of it! Alas, it was not to be, and here Raph was, still chewing on that nasty stick of wood.

“You all really seemed to have eh… buffed up since last we met.” Raph commented, crossing his arms.

“And you got uglier, if that’s possible.” Leonardo snapped back, lips pulling into a devilish grin.

“Leo—” Raphael started to correct, but Raph only laughed a deep, belly laugh.

“You’re just as snappy as ever, I see.” Raph gave Leonardo a smack on the back, which sent the turtle stumbling. Raph winced at his mistake and drew slightly into himself. “Oof. Sorry!”

Leonardo caught himself and laughed it off. Leo shot a glare over to Raph, who only shrugged in a ‘what are you gonna do?’ motion. Leo decided it best not to cause unnecessary conflict, so he shook his head and tried to push the altercation to the back of his mind.

“Come here, little man!” Raph opened an arm and pulled Michelangelo closer, giving him a tight squeeze. He rubbed Michelangelo’s head with his knuckles, almost choking the younger boy as Michelangelo tried to pull himself free of the bicep’s tight grip. Once he had successfully freed himself, Raph crouched down to Michelangelo’s level. “Lemme see ya! You gotten big, kid!”

Michelangelo puffed out his chest and cheeks proudly, putting hands on his hips and glowing under the praise.

“Oh, so he gets to call you little man?” Raphael asked, his voice almost hurt.

“Don’t start a fight, Raphie!” Michelangelo huffed, pointing at Raphael.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to get in a scuff wit’ ya.” Raph commented, and Raphael seemed just as proud of the compliment as Michelangelo had been. “You're as big as my Don now!”

Donnie and Raphael fell back to back with each other, Leonardo and Michelangelo both jumping on the opportunity to judge the height differences. Michelangelo scrambled up Donnie like a jungle gym to get better leverage and a more level view.

“Actually, I think Raph is a little bigger.” Leonardo said, then gave a side glance to Mikey. “What says the jury?”

“I say that’s a very big boi.” Michelangelo nodded and stated matter-a-factly.

“Heh, how’s it feel to be the second tallest, Ding-Don?” Raph smirked, nudging Donnie with his elbow.

Donnie tensed at the elbow to his side, readjusted his glasses, and said, “I don’t know Raph; how’s it feel to be the third tallest?”

Raph blinked. “Shit.”

“Language!” Splinter corrected Raph with a whip of his tail.

“Gee, he really likes doing that.” Leonardo commented, leaning over to whisper to his counterpart.

“You have no idea.” Leo laughed breathlessly, shaking his head.

Michelangelo, meanwhile, had found a new favorite game; Donnie, resigned to being Michelangelo’s plaything, held out his arm so the younger box turtle could swing on it like it was a monkey bar. It didn't cost the tech genius anything more than time, and seeing the little box turtle so happy and laughing made his heart flood with just as much joy. He remembered when Mikey had been like that, so happy to hang on his brothers like they were the most fun game in the lair. Mikey still did it from time to time, but it was different coming from another young box turtle.

Michelangelo swung several more times before he launched himself off of Donnie’s arm, flying through the air and landing perfectly on Leo’s shoulders. Leo flinched at the sudden weight on his shoulders but, when he recognized Michelangelo, he gave a smile and left the turtle to his devices. From there, Michelangelo jumped to Raph, who had been expecting the change and caught the little turtle in one arm. Michelangelo started to climb over Raph like a spidermonkey, giggling the whole time, before he got to Raph’s shoulders and launched himself at Mikey.

Mikey’s immediate instinct was to reach out with his Right arm.

“Mikey, wait—“ Donnie tried to warn.

Mikey caught Michelangelo—and immediately cried out. His arm bulged, veins looking ready to burst at the strain. It took all the focus of his training to not drop Michelangelo outright, instead carefully lowering the younger turtle to the ground before falling against the wall clutching his arm. Klunk scrambled from Mikey’s grip, terrified of the sudden commotion.

“Nnngnnoo, Klunky…”

Donnie was with his brother in seconds, supporting Mikey’s weight while whispering low and urgent to the mutant. Before he realized his feet were moving, Leonardo was there too, helping to calm and stabilize Mikey as the box turtle writhed and cried. He immediately started to guide Mikey and Donnie toward the medbay, and the rest of the mutants followed like lost puppies. They stopped at the threshold of the sterile environment, staring helplessly inside as Leonardo and Donnie guided Mikey to a bed do he could rest.

“Something happened, didn't it?” Leonardo whispered to Donnie, hopefully low enough where Mikey couldn’t hear them.

Donnie gave a weak nod, keeping his voice just as low. “Partial seizure with overall shaking and hypertonic after-effects on his right side.”

“Does your family know?”

Donnie shook his head. “I haven’t told them yet. They know something happened, just not what.”

“Alright.” Leonardo nodded, “What triggered it?”

“I… I don’t know. We've been having a lot more bumps and falls lately. And there was this light…”

“Dudes.” Mikey said finally, his voice weak. “I’m fine. Seriously!”

Leonardo and Donnie exchanged unsure looks before Leonardo turned his attention back to the patient.

“I know you are.” Leonardo said with a bright smile, “But it might help the big softies back there if you let us give you a quick workup.”

Leonardo nodded to the crowd at the doorway, who were all finding their own space to peek in and watch with eyeridges creased in concern. Mikey leaned to get a better view of them, and then fell back into place.

“Okay.” Mikey relented.

“That’s the spirit.” Leonardo nodded, and then stood up so he could better address his eldest brother. “Raph, maybe you should get everyone situated?”

Raphael took the hint with a gruff growl and started to usher everyone away from the doorway to leave the medics and their patient in peace.

“Well eh…” It took Raphael a second to think of a new subject, “Sleeping arrangements! I was thinking your Raph and Mikey could take over my room, Leo and Donnie can share Donatello’s room, and you, sensei, can take Leonardo’s room.”

“Oh, we couldn’t!” Splinter tried to dismiss, “Just a couple blankets and pillows should suffice!”

“Nonsense!” Raphael bellowed, “It’s my house, and I’m gonna treat my guests however I want, and I want you all to be comfortable while you’re staying here! Besides, I can’t let an old man sleep on the floor! Leonardo’s bed’s the most comfortable for… your eh… for your back…”

Raphael trailed off, off-put by the sharp, dark eyes of Splinter. Raph and Leo both covered their mouths with a sharp intake of breath, eyes bulging as they quickly divulged away from Splinter.

“I’m not old.” Splinter said in a tone as if he was daring Raphael to contradict. “I’m fifty-seven. Fifty-seven is not old.”

Raphael’s head started to shrink into his shell and his lips pursed in a pouty face. “Am I in trouble…?”

With a kick of his foot, Splinter caught his sandal in a hand and held it out to Raphael with a knowing look. No more words had to be exchanged for the meaning to get across. Splinter replaced his sandal.

“Well… you should still take the bedrooms!” Michelangelo insisted, “That’a way me and my brothers can have a big ol’ sleepover in my room!”

The box turtle struck a happy pose, one leg in the air and his hands clasped together as he beamed. Splinter took one look at him and sighed; he couldn’t say no to that face.

“Thank you for your generosity.” Splinter gave a bow of his head to Raphael, “I promise you we will leave your home in as well of a shape as we found it.”

“Yeah, it’s no sweat.” Raphael said.

“I’ll have Shelldon sanitize and prepare the rooms.” Donatello declared as he typed a message onto his wristband.

“Who?” Raph asked.

As an answer, a force whizzed by his head, with a voice to match. “BOOYAKASHA!”

“What was that?!” Leo gawked, not sure whether or not it was appropriate to grab his swords.

“That was Shelldon.” Donatello said simply, reaching over to close Leo’s mouth for him.

Raph stared after the drone, shaking his head. “Don’s gonna have a geek-gasm…”

~~~

Donnie’s immediate reaction upon seeing the drone was to geek out, and to then try to contain the excitement when he remembered how easy it would be to harm the drone if he wasn’t careful. Instead of actually touching Shelldon, he found his hands hovering over the drone and his breath hard to catch.

“Say hi, Shelldon.” Donatello urged.

“Heyyy!” Shelldon’s voice carried a familiar, robotic tone that one would expect for artificial life, but it also held a sort of ‘surfer-bro’ charm to it. Donnie certainly melted over it.

“Heh. He’s kinda like your drone, but interactive.” Raph pointed out.

“Yeah…” Donnie breathed, and only once he was able to break from the paralyzed state of his body did he flip his goggles down over his eyes. “Hi… I’m Donnie. Oh gods you’re beautiful…”

“He enjoys scritches behind all nine of his ears, located here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here!” Donatello pointed out all of the audio sensors on Shelldon’s body.

“Ohhh…” Donnie finally brought his hands to two of the pointed-out hot spots, carefully massaging along the sensitive sensors. When Shelldon began to purr, Donnie automatically returned the noise. “This is the greatest day of my life…”

Raph crossed his arms. “Aaaaaaand he’s gone”

~~~

Everything was wrong. Everything was dark and wet and it was hard to breathe, the smallest drip quaking him to his core. All he could smell was putrid filth, and all he could see was black, and all he could hear was the water around him. He was up to his waist in water, thick with grime and waste, and the fumes wafted up to suffocate his nose. The air burned his lungs in the worst possible way, but he had to keep going. He had to find his troop and harvest the mutagen. He had to find his commander and he couldn’t stop until he had new orders to follow. For the republic!

#If you call splinter old #you’re gonna have a bad time #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles #beyond the bay

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dramaticviolincrescendo · 4 years ago

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Okay, what are your thoughts on Ian's relationships? With his family, his boyfriends, and Mandy (since I think that's the only friend he's had)

Oh, no. Ohhhhhhhh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’ve asked about my dear, darling favorite character on the show. My love for one Ian Gallagher runs deep, which means this answer is going to run super long. The good, the bad, and everything in between—Ian Gallagher lives rent free in my brain and always will. I derive so much satisfaction from seeing Ian interact with other people, in whatever capacity that might be. I admire and aspire to the compassion he has shown for others over the years, even and perhaps most especially those who arguably haven’t earned it. He tries so hard to be good to people, and seeing their love for him manifest when he’s reached such lows where he can’t even fathom why the love of his life would want to be with him forever? That’s powerful.

So, yeah. I said I could write essays on these characters, and that’s exactly what you’re about to get: five hours and 6k words’ worth of my thoughts. (I am so sorry. There will be text walls.)

Let’s dive into Ian’s many and multifaceted relationships—his family, his friends, and his romantic pursuits.

Ian and Family

Ian told us where he stood on this in the very first season, and it set the standard for his character for eleven years to come. Faced with a prospect that others in his position could only dream of—not being Frank’s son and having a wealthy father with a functional, prosperous lifestyle mere miles away—Ian refused to buy into it. He refused to do what might have been objectively better for his future by seeking a relationship with Clayton. In that household, he would have had access to a better public school, more financial resources, a tutor to help him where he was struggling, and less urgency for him to work so that he could enjoy being a kid. When he got sick, he would have had access to better healthcare, too. Perhaps he would have had a better shot at West Point from that background than he did at home. But that’s just it: home was with his family, and he was very clear that they didn’t live in that nice house. All he wanted—all he wanted—was to be with his brothers and sisters. He has never referred to them as only half-siblings or half-cousins; he has never even used the words, “you’re not my dad,” on Frank. That’s his family, the people he loves most in the world, and he’s always been at his best when he’s with them and at his worst when he’s not. Let’s look at each of them:

1. Frank: It is so striking to me that Ian doesn’t appear to hold the outright contempt for Frank that Fiona, Lip, and Debbie have exhibited at different points over the years. Aside from the handful of instances where they’ve gotten into physical altercations (which Frank always initiated) and kicking him out of the house on occasion, Ian is simply indifferent to him. But there are these moments, these brief glimmers of mutual attachment and loyalty, if those are the right words. In the scene where Ian famously doesn’t count to three before using the pepper spray on him, Frank starts saying how his New Gallaghers weren’t his real kids—that Ian is his real son, and Frank is his real father. It’s a passing thought uttered while trying to manipulate his way into the house that neither of them think much of, nor does the audience…until you remember that biologically, Frank isn’t his father, and he certainly hasn’t behaved like one either. Ian has more right than anyone to comment on that, but he doesn’t because Frank is his father. He’s the father that Ian idly hoped wouldn’t come to his wedding yet sat joking about with Debbie rather than getting pissed off that he was making out with some lady in front of everyone. He’s the father who sat at the table with them eating breakfast in 11x03 and claimed Mickey was the man in their relationship without Ian saying a word to him about it, and who Ian saw no issue with taking Franny to school when no one else could. In s4, as far removed from his family as he’d been for a while, Ian still went straight to the hospital when he heard that Frank was at death’s door. We focus so much on his attitude towards Monica because of how obvious it was that we frequently miss these tiny moments and their implications. It would take an awful lot of patience, compassion, and love not to write Frank off completely after all he’s done. Not necessarily our standard definition of love between a son and his father, perhaps, but a loving soul.

2. Monica: I have actually written a pretty lengthy post about his relationship with her because while their shared mental illness definitely plays a role in his feelings toward her, that grew complicated far earlier than his diagnosis. The first time we meet her, we see that he has a visceral reaction to news of her presence. He runs. When Ian can’t process strong emotions, that’s what he’s done in the past. I happened upon an interview Cameron did just after the end of s1 where he mentioned something I had already been thinking: Ian’s age when Monica left is extremely important. He was a kid in s1, but one who could roll with the punches, sometimes literally. She left them two years before that. Ian would have been in middle school, roughly as old as Debbie was when she still called Frank “daddy” and forgave him for everything he did. It’s an awkward age that once again set Ian in something of a danger zone—too old to accept an excuse or no explanation at all, but not old enough to process the situation in a healthy way. And then she’s back all of a sudden with no warning. Ian doesn’t cry like Debbie, and he doesn’t typically get explosively angry like Fiona. He can’t deal, so he runs. He hangs back. He only speaks when he has to and compartmentalizes: Monica wants to take Liam, and they need to stop her. It doesn’t have to be about her leaving. They have a goal—he can focus on that. And then she’s back a year later, saying she’s here to stay while Fiona seems to take her at her word and Lip isn’t there to ground everyone. Ian tries so hard to behave like Lip would with his biting sarcasm and attempts to stay emotionally distant in a way that seemed pretty exaggerated for Ian, but he’s also dealing with a fresh wave of guilt over Mickey going to juvie—and Monica gets it. She’s the only person to acknowledge that he’s in pain and actively try to make it better. She’s the only one who really knows at the time, but that hardly matters. This poor kid, whose mother left him when he still needed her, has her standing in front of him and saying she’s sorry and listening when he speaks and taking him dancing—just the two of them. Embarrassing as it was and harmful as it could have been, she tried to facilitate his dreams when no one else wanted him to go into the military. She was there for him when he went AWOL. She came for him when he was arrested and even wanted to make a place for him in her new life, unrealistic as it was. This goes so much deeper than them both being bipolar. Ian’s comment about her parachuting into their lives in s7 wasn’t about Mickey or her role in them breaking up. He trusted her. He wanted her. He needed her. And she’d convinced him that she would be there—until she left. Over and over again. She was there for him and unintentionally took advantage of how desperately he still needed his mother. She made him keep loving her, and that’s both a blessing that has him crying into a voluminous man’s arms when she passes and a curse that wrecked him more than once.

3. Fiona: The trust these two have for each other cannot be understated. Fiona has discussed things with Ian that she never brought up around any of the other kids throughout the entire series. In the pilot episode, she tells him about feeling needed and takes his opinion on the matter to heart. At the end of the season, he’s the one she talks to about the car because she can trust him to give her an answer even without speaking. In s2, she tells Lip that the two of them are her rocks, and we see that time and time again. That’s part of what makes their falling out over the church hit that much harder: it’s Ian and Fiona. The only time they’d been on the outs in any serious manner up to that point was when Ian was adjusting to his new reality and they were trying to find a balance between sister and caretaker. Otherwise, that bond of trust had never been severed—not until Ian literally sold himself only for it to amount to nothing in the end because she had no idea the lengths to which he’d gone to get that building. That damage gets mended, thankfully, but what a powerful period of time when those two were the only ones who’d never really been at each other’s throats. There is a downside to that trust, though. As I mentioned before, Ian was so responsible and put together when he was younger that Fiona didn’t think twice about his situation with Ned or that he ran away. Not even seventeen yet, and she was telling Debbie that she didn’t like his decision to leave but trusted him. That is one of the things I love about this show—even something like trust that we always prop up as an important factor in our relationships can betray us in the most unexpected ways.

4. Lip: I won’t go into it here, but the relationship they share is something that means a lot to me on a personal level. It’s part of how I knew that Ian would become my favorite character pretty early on. The way he simultaneously admires and envies Lip, loves and is annoyed by him, relies on him and is desperate to pave his own path in the world—what a beautiful and accurate depiction of what it means to be a younger sibling. Lip is the first person to discover that he’s gay and openly accept him for it. (I think what he tried with Karen came from a well-meaning place even if it was horribly, horribly misguided.) Lip is the one who tries to get him into West Point, hate it as he does. He helps Ian when Terry is after him, takes care of him in the aftermath of the wedding when he realizes just how deeply Ian feels for Mickey, searches the whole damn city for him when he finds out that Ian is in trouble, gets him a job, leans on him in his own time of need… He’s not perfect. He slips up, just like Ian does. Some things break my heart, like Lip insisting that he’s earned his own space when his little brother is asking him for safe harbor or Ian thanking him for being his brother outside the prison. But they love each other so much, and I just… I can’t possibly put into words how much I love their dynamic.

5. Debbie, Carl, and Liam: I’m grouping these three together because they’re further separated from Ian in age, so we see a lot of the same trends with them as a whole. Ian loves taking care of people. We know this. We also know that Fiona and Lip don’t typically want him taking care of them—they’re the ones who take care of him when he needs it, specifically Lip. With the younger three, however, Ian can be the Big Brother. He can shake his head in utter bafflement at Debbie’s obsession with holding her breath for two minutes, walk Carl through what he needs to go camping, and promise his baby brother postcards when he leaves. The difference here is that his relationship with them is so much less fraught with conflict. We don’t see him fight with Debbie, Carl, or Liam the way he has with Fiona or Lip. While Ian tends to be the voice of reason during conflicts overall, I think it’s also because he relies on his older siblings in a way that he doesn’t with his younger siblings, and the latter don’t tend to rely on him as much as Fiona or Lip as well. There’s a lack of tension in most of their interactions growing up because that pressure isn’t there. Perhaps this is where Ian’s age and standing in the family is a bit more beneficial: young enough to have people he can rely on while too young for anyone to really rely on him for more than his share of the squirrel fund.

Ian and Friends

I’ve seen it mentioned that Ian (and Mickey) not having more friends is bad or lazy writing. I tend to believe that that fails to take something into account that, admittedly, most of us don’t really have to think about: having friends is a luxury. It requires time and effort to cultivate friendships, especially lasting ones. As a kid, Ian spent a lot of his free time working or helping to manage one family crisis after another. Going AWOL, losing his health, struggling to acclimate to his illness, trying to find a new career path, spiraling into the Gay Jesus movement, going to prison, adjusting once again to normal life, getting married, a pandemic… I’m sure he’s had plenty of acquaintances over the years, but having a family to support and constant upheavals would have made it extremely difficult to really forge strong relationships with them. I think that’s part of what makes his relationship with Mandy so special and valuable to him: she’s sort of the same way.

When we met Mandy in s1, she had other friends. We saw her meet up with them and go shopping; she told Ian a story about how one was mad at her for not sharing her make-up. As the trauma in the Milkovich household reached its zenith for her in s2 and she started thinking seriously about getting out of there, we saw those friends fall by the wayside—all except Ian. He saw her and let her see him early on. That’s a level of trust and respect that nobody else in their neighborhood would have displayed, certainly not to her. But then there’s this guy who defended her against their creepy, perverted teacher and treated her like a human being, not an object. It’s no wonder she developed an obvious, unrequited crush and sought physical comfort from him occasionally. It’s no wonder she tried to repay the favor by giving Mickey a hard time in s3 and s4, misguided and rather uninformed as we know it was at the time. (It’s also no wonder that she went for the closest Gallagher to Ian, either, but that’s for another meta.)

And Ian… Ian is loyal to a fault. We have watched Ian cut out his own heart and let the blood drip down his arm to pool on the floor at his feet if it would make a damn bit of difference for the people he loves. Like Fiona and Lip, Mandy immediately accepted him for who he is and suggested an arrangement that would protect him as well as benefit her. That is enormous where they came from. To him, that had to feel like the ultimate sign of friendship: he could trust her with a part of him that he hadn’t even entrusted to most of his family yet. From that point on, she was on the List of People Ian Gallagher Would Do Anything For. Finding out about Terry and what had happened? He held a bake sale, of all things, to fundraise for her. Seeing that his brother—his best friend—was treating her like garbage? He put him in his place. Her boyfriend was beating her? He brought her home and made it his goal to find a safe place for her to stay, even if it ultimately didn’t work. She was going to move away from all of her meager support with that boyfriend? He didn’t just rally his own arguments—he brought in outside help with Lip, who he thought might tip the scales. It’s usually just a saying that true friends will help each other hide a body, but Ian literally tried to do that. Lucky for him, he has a good head on his shoulders and used it.

No, Ian doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. We’ve seen that he has spheres of influence, if you will, and acquaintances that he can call upon when he needs them. (For example, the guys that helped with the preacher.) However, Ian has always struck me as a “quality over quantity” type of person. Being a soldier or an EMT isn’t lucrative, but they’re meaningful for someone who sees them as vehicles for helping people. Seeing more parts of the world than just Chicago has appealed to him in the past, but he seems perfectly content to carve out a spot for himself right here at home. Having only three best friends—Lip, Mandy, and Mickey—doesn’t seem like much of a hardship for him.

Ian and Romantic Pursuits

I hate to say that there were five, but from Ian’s perspective, there were. So, let’s talk about all five. Even though…there weren’t five. There was only one. We’ll save the best for last.

1. Kash: The first of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. I hope it goes without saying that I hate this man with the passion of a thousand burning suns. I hate him so much. However, their interactions taught me a whole lot about how kind and compassionate Ian really is—and how naïve. Of course, he would believe that Kash loved him. The man was buying him all sorts of expensive gifts, and that’s what we see on all the commercials and in so many movies, isn’t it? Grand gestures of affection through expensive gifts. Poor as they were, Ian still scraped together the money to buy him baseball tickets and CDs, convinced as he was that that was all part of what you did in a relationship. That desire to do things like a “normal” married couple in s11? Yeah, that starts here. Ian has always been a planner, and he’s always bought into certain stereotypes. We can see that here. What we can also see is Ian’s compassionate, kind, loving soul. He cares so deeply for other people, even ones that he doesn’t know very well, especially if they are living in circumstances that mean something to him. (For example, the mentally ill woman they tried to help at work and the shelter kids whose situations were so similar to Mickey’s.) Kash being a closeted gay man living in misery with a wife he didn’t love and two children he never meant to have clearly tugged at Ian’s heartstrings. Even after everything that happens, even though Ian behaves as though they’re awkward exes who just happen to work together, he still covers for Kash. He gives him that head start and takes it upon himself to break the news to Linda that he’s gone. He defends Kash to Lip when the latter finally says exactly what we all know: he was a pedophile who deserved to rot in prison for what he did. As with Fiona’s trust, Ian’s loving soul, compassionate heart, and desire for love outside his siblings are virtues that have done him harm in the past. This is one such instance.

2. Ned: The second of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. To be honest, I don’t believe that Ian would even characterize it that way. He seemed very aware that Ned was a distraction from his problems—from Mickey being in juvie, Monica falling into a depressive episode, the money in the squirrel fund being gone, Lip moving out, losing his shot at West Point, and getting denied for service due to his age. Again, though, Ian has always wanted to feel valued, and this rich dude was letting him stay in a fancy hotel room with anything he wanted readily available. This (disgusting predator) guy was giving him attention and a distraction with no strings attached. Then the complications roll in, and he’s once again faced with being the mistress to a closeted, married man. The difference here is that he’s not comfortable with it. He tries to tell Fiona twice, which is enormous for Ian when he has never been very good at communicating if it means burdening others with or even merely facing his own problems. But he tries to tell her. He rejects the GPS unit and tells Ned that he has a boyfriend, boxing him into a strictly sexual arrangement. (This, unfortunately, makes sense. It aligns with how Fiona viewed things: where Jimmy was concerned about it, she told him that it was “just sex.”) He is also visibly embarrassed to admit to Lip and Fiona what has been going on with Ned. By that point, Ian is a year and a half older and, while still scarred and warped in his views because of Kash, perhaps a bit wiser. Emotionally, he kept Ned at arm’s length most of the time. He used Ned not just as a distraction, but as a way to galvanize Mickey into taking their relationship a step forward. But Ian is still Ian, and Ian is compassionate to a fault. Ned played that card by asking if he could have a little understanding for a man whose life was falling apart. Sure, he can. He’s Ian, the Gallagher too empathetic for his own good at times. We know how that spirals out of control. It just goes to show that even when Ian was trying to maintain some emotional distance, his heart is simply too big and his perceptions too heavily impacted by the grooming he’d experienced with two different people by then, and so he [SPOILER ALERT] still feels enough of a connection to Ned after all these years to be mildly bothered that he passed away.

3. Caleb: The third of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Ian’s relationship with Caleb strikes me as being similar to what he had with Ned. While more age-appropriate, Ian was very much using Caleb, just as Caleb was using him. That’s why it was so easy for both of them to walk away. Ian was in a difficult spot when they met. He was grateful to the firefighters who saved his life, but he had also just saved someone else at a moment when he was perhaps at his absolute lowest. That’s what he’s always wanted, isn’t it—to be a bit of a hero and help people? So, he’s understandably drawn there, first out of gratitude and then to be surrounded by very attractive gay firemen who helped people, saved his life, and invited him to be part of a function they were holding. But he made himself pretty clear from the start: he was interested in sex with Caleb. That was the draw. He still hasn’t come to terms with being bipolar and losing Mickey, but Ian has never not been with anyone for any extended length of time. That’s just who he is: he’s always sought some level of outward validation—from the army, Kash, Monica, Mickey, and so many others. We’re seeing him struggle with that now as he deals with the opportunities available to him as a mentally ill ex-con felon. So, he pursues Caleb as a distraction just like he did with Ned, only Caleb is a predator in his own right and can smell that his interest is coming from a place of weakness. He immediately (and initially unintentionally) preys on Ian’s desperate need for structure and order by insisting on a traditional date where Ian is very much out of his element and even goes so far as to instruct Ian on how to be intimate. It’s no wonder he mentions Mickey in these moments, as Mickey never wanted him to change, and Ian leans heavily (even slightly hyperbolically) into the fact that Mickey wasn’t a paragon of order and stability like Caleb outwardly appears.

And I think why Ian puts up with it so long—being taught like a child, being used to upset Caleb’s parents, being paraded in front of his friends to make them jealous—is because he was getting something out of it too, just like with Ned. A stable place to live when their home ownership was in flux, a place away from his family when they weren’t providing the support he needed as he adjusted to his disorder, someone who validated his desires to help people regardless of their ulterior motives, and a physical distraction from his own problems. All of these parallel his relationship with Ned very closely. It was never going to last, of course. Ian is a strong person who temporarily forgot how strong he was because he forgot who he was, and Caleb didn’t want to be cared for—he wanted a project, like all of his sculptures. Being a project, being something that others see as needing to be fixed? That’s a hard no for Ian. It always has been. There’s a moment I love later in their relationship where Caleb tells him to turn off the lights when he goes out and lightly reprimands him for leaving one on the day prior. Ian is in a better place at that point, having regained a lot of his sense of self, and stares after him with indignation at being treated like a kid. He’s then lied to and cheated on, but I think that to mention those things to Caleb when they break up is to admit weakness on his own part—that he stuck with Caleb knowing that he was being mistreated, and Ian is not one to be called a victim. So, while we know from his discussions with Lip and Sue that the cheating and distrust bothered him most, he merely focused on Caleb lying about his sexuality, which removed a lot of the emotion from the situation—just like he did with Ned. It ultimately turned out to be a bad move since Caleb, being a skilled predator, made him question even his own sexuality in return, but we’re starting to see that Ian isn’t here to be someone’s toy anymore. Not an older, married man like Ned, but definitely not anyone his age either. I’m glad this pseudo-relationship happened because it showed Ian how strong he really was and that he could be in control of his own life. Sure, it destabilized him a little in the aftermath, but he worked through it. He leaned on his family, specifically Lip, who has always been his rock without the blurred lines that Fiona represented between sister/mother-figure/caretaker. Caleb is a garbage person, but Ian was the one who pulled the treasure from the trash, not him.

4. Trevor: The fourth of Ian’s perceived romantic pursuits that really wasn’t. Trevor is perhaps the first relationship where we don’t see Ian dive in. Whether that’s because of his confusion over Trevor’s gender identity or the fact that he was really beginning to fully mature as an adult by that point (ostensibly finishing his education, getting a career, being fully self-sufficient, etc.), he tried to take his time and not jump right in. They hung out, talked around the neighborhood, and yes, engaged in some casual intimacy at the club. Again, Ian might not be in a full relationship, but he’s never without someone for long. At that point in the series, all he was missing was a relationship when it comes to traditional, “normal” goals for people to have. But Trevor posed a situation he’s never been in before since, while gay himself, Ian has never been very interested in activism or engaging in the LGBT community. It’s just not in his culture or environment, so to be faced with someone he’s interested in that challenges a lot of his views of gender and sexuality is something he takes his time with. Unfortunately, Trevor is younger than him and not quite as mature, not quite as experienced. He tells Ian he has plenty of friends and doesn’t need another, which is an ultimatum that has never really sat very well with me personally because I’m generally of the mind that if a person needs time and you really care for them, you’ll let them have that time. I’m not unsympathetic to Trevor: he’s been burned before and has his own trauma stemming from responses to his identity, so it makes complete sense for him not to be patient in this regard. He shouldn’t have to be—but then, Ian shouldn’t have to rush into anything he’s not 100% certain he wants either. That’s exactly what he does, though, because Ian does for others without thinking of the implications for himself a lot of the time. They make great friends, but they don’t make great partners. Trevor treats Ian similarly to Caleb in that he’s a bit of a project. Trevor educates him on the LGBT community and incorporates him into his ventures for the shelter without ever really showing much interest in Ian’s life or family, which suits Ian just fine because for as interested as he is in helping with the shelter and as attracted to Trevor as he is, he seems to know they’re not compatible. Ian, who has been having sex since he was far too young, takes a step back from it when they run into compatibility issues. (And pushes back on the pressure to bottom with some of his own—neither of them were in the right on that.) He doesn’t ask much about Trevor’s family or try to be part of his personal life. They sort of embody the “friends with benefits” stereotype: they hang out, they have sex, and that’s really all there is to their relationship.

The reason Ian doubles down on trying to make it work isn’t because there was a future for them before Mickey broke out. It’s because he thinks he’s lost Mickey forever, he knows he’s lost Monica forever, and he’s not going to get the support he needs from his family when they couldn’t stand Monica and Fiona told him what he already knew to be true, namely that Mickey being an escaped convict would destroy everything Ian worked so hard for if he got involved. So, he does what Ian does. He needs that distraction—he needs to run from these strong emotions he can’t process, so he bottles them up and unfairly hopes that Trevor will provide some of that comfort after cheating on him with Mickey. (Had Mickey been released, I think they would have broken up. Instead, that was the first match Ian lit, but certainly not the last.) Now, the thing is, Trevor said at the start that he didn’t want to be Ian’s friend. He’s also younger and less mature in a relationship, which means he threw the concept of love out there prematurely, just like Ian thought what he had with Kash was love. The death throes of their relationship were a back and forth where Ian was spiraling and seeking comfort, and Trevor was providing some while keeping their relationship pretty amorphous. (Were they exes? Were they friends? Were they people who shared interests and danced around each other? Were they going to get back together? They never officially broke up—it fizzled and resurged, then fizzled for good.) Ultimately, whatever it was that they had couldn’t survive Mickey, Monica, or Gay Jesus. Trevor wasn’t prepared to deal with a full-blown manic episode, and based on his hands-off approach with involving himself in Ian’s life even before the Mickey-shaped bomb got dropped on them, it doesn’t seem like he really wanted to anyway. He did what he’s always done: prioritized his shelter, which I’m not deriding in the slightest. By that point, Ian was too far gone to care that he disappeared anyway. Had the situation been different and he was getting the support from his family that he needed, it doesn’t seem like he would have cared much there either.

5. Mickey: Finally. Only took over five thousand words to get here. I’ll preface this with something that anyone who knows me from other fandoms is already well aware of, namely that I don’t do romance. Ever. Never been interested. The relationships I’ve always been most passionately interested in are platonic ones, especially “found families” and siblings, which is probably obvious from the other five thousand words here. Ian and Mickey are the first relationship I’ve actively shipped or written for in a fandom. They’re the first I’ve been invested in to this extent. As such, one of the biggest pet peeves I had when I first joined this fandom was the saying, “Ian fell first, Mickey fell harder.” These two wonderful dumbasses face planted on the concrete in front of the Kash and Grab in s1 and never recovered. I could go on forever about these two, but that particular wall of text would probably be too daunting for even the most avid Gallavich stan to traverse, so I’ll keep it fairly brief. As we can see above, Ian has a very strict sense of what he “should” want in a partner. Someone who is moderately successful in their chosen field, makes enough money to at least live comfortably, and typically does something that helps other people (a doctor, a fireman, a youth counselor). These aren’t passionate people. They’re not men who operate on instinct the way most of the people in his life have always had to by virtue of their social standing. They have life goals and opportunities that he envies, and Ian has a great deal of compassion for them when they hit a roadblock or things don’t work out. The amazing dichotomy of Ian Gallagher is that he straddles a line most people can’t between the rough neighborhood that has instilled in him all of his values/behaviors and the middle-class mentality of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and aspiring to more. Ian has always aimed for what Lip said wasn’t possible for poor people: being successful without having to scam or steal. But as I said way back at the beginning of this manifesto, the South Side is his home. His family is his family. And none of the people he’s been with personify the South Side quite like Mickey—they don’t personify home like Mickey.

And I think that’s where the initial draw for Ian is. (I’m going to focus on Ian’s side since he’s who your question focused on.) The other guys look great on paper, and Ian’s brain says that that’s what he should aim for. We know better, though. We know that Ian has an enormous heart that belongs first and foremost to his family and their home. His heart says that this person—this dirty, rude, mean, violent person—is home. His heart says this person is everything about himself that he denies having, just like Ian was everything about Mickey that the latter declined to openly acknowledge for so long. I don’t like relationships built on “making each other better.” I really don’t. The wonderful thing about this is that it’s never been that way. Ian didn’t change Mickey. He’s exactly who he’s always been, but he’s grown past the fear of his own emotions and Terry’s response to them. He’s still a thief, a con artist, violent, and rude. Mickey didn’t change Ian either. He’s still rigidly conforming to certain stereotypes of what he thinks he should want, seeking structure (to his own detriment at times), and not a great communicator. The point for them is that they complement each other, not that they make the other a better person—not even that they bring something out of each other that wasn’t already there. That’s what Ian’s other relationships did. They made him shave off his edges so that he could fit a square peg into a round hole, and that’s not happiness. It’s simply what he thought he was supposed to do—what “normal” people did.

With Mickey, he doesn’t have to worry so much about what is normal or acceptable. He doesn’t have to worry about whether or not his life is objectively “on track,” not until fairly recently. Mickey is the only person he’s ever been with who has accepted him for who he is, faults and strengths alike, without the underlying insinuation that he should be aiming for something else or pretending to be whatever the other person needs him to be in order to care for them. Kash needed an escape—Ian provided it. Ned needed a very specific brand of toy—Ian played that role. Caleb needed a project to feel fulfilled—Ian went along with it for a bit. Trevor needed someone who accepted him as he was but did things his way—Ian did that. To care for Mickey has only ever meant being himself because all Mickey ever really needed was him. Mickey didn’t need an escape from his home—his relationship with his family is more complicated than that. Mickey didn’t need to be saved from his upbringing—it’s what made him the person Ian fell in love with and who he is happy to be. Mickey didn’t need someone to change who he is on a fundamental level because unless it is going to get him into trouble and separate them, Ian never wanted him to. (Even then, it’s about what he does, not who he is.) And yes, I’m sure that there’s a level of excitement that Ian finds exhilarating where Mickey is concerned, but I tend to believe it goes a lot deeper than that. What he finds exciting about Mickey is what Mickey embodies about the South Side—about home. About his own upbringing, but also Ian’s. About Frank and Monica, his siblings, school, work, ROTC—existing and surviving in an environment where it’s not guaranteed that you’ll have money to keep the heat on this winter or feed your family. They spent the early seasons living in a constant state of fight or flight. They couldn’t afford not to. And there’s excitement in that. Look at how many people say that the first seasons are their favorite! There hasn’t been a huge shift in the quality or direction of the writing, just the trajectory of the characters. They’ve gotten older, and their problems have been different. It’s not about survival so much of the time anymore, but those are the storylines that excite us. For Ian, that exhilaration in the constant battle of survival in their neighborhood is sewn into the fiber of his being just like it is Mickey’s. He saw his home in Mickey before they truly fell in love, and when that followed, Mickey became home.

In Conclusion

Ian has spent his entire life looking for the “right” path only to realize that it was laid before him: his family, his small circle of friends, and Mickey. I love that that is coming full circle this season, where [SPOILER ALERT] marriage has almost made him regress a bit to that place where there must be a right way of doing things going forward, and slowly but surely, we’re seeing him loosen up.

Good morning. It’s Ian Gallagher loving hours.

#shameless #ian gallagher #it's ian gallagher loving hours #shameless meta #well that took six hours #and I didn't get more writing done #but I feel accomplished

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lils-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

Spinning Wheels

Spencer Reid x reader

Best Years Season 2 part three | part two | part one | season one

summary: a local case hits a nerve with the reader

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, description of shooting, yk fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode 8; *chanting* angry reader, angry reader!

“Penelope,” Y/N sang as she entered the woman’s bat cave. She carried a coffee in each hand, one for her and one for Penelope. “I bring you a present.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re so sweet!” Penelope gushed as she grabbed the coffee from her hand. She pulled the lid off to look inside the cup. “This is my favorite, oh my gosh, you know I-”

She looked up at Y/N to see her sheepish smile. She only brought Penelope her favorite, kind of expensive coffee, when she wanted something.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I want!”

“I know that it’s big enough for you to bring me my favorite,” Penelope set the cup down and began typing on her computer.

“Garcia, I’m desperate,” Y/N admitted. She sat on the small open area on Penelope’s desk. “I can’t get anything out of JJ on what Spencer’s been doing up here at seven when we don’t have to be here ‘till nine. So I was hoping you can work some of your Garcia Magic and...”

Penelope stopped her typing, she knew exactly what Spencer had been doing.

Y/N noticed how Penelope stopped typing. “Oh my god, you know!”

“No, I don’t,” she lied. “Okay, well I know kind of what he’s doing, but I can’t tell you.”

Y/N knew she could get somewhere with Penelope, she was terrible at keeping secrets.

“Penelope,” Y/N drug out the name in a pleading tone.

“Uh-ah, my lips are sealed.” She ran her finger across her lips as if she was zipping them.

Y/N gave her a pout and some puppy dog eyes, but Penelope turned away and stuck her nose up in the air. She was determined to not break and ruin Spencer’s plan.

Y/N sighed, if Penelope was going to be this persistent, then she wouldn’t get it all out of her.

“Fine, then can I admit something to you?”

Penelope turned to her, hearing her serious and almost shy tone.

“Of course.”

“I, um, I bought him a ring,” Y/N confessed, wringing her hands together like she normally did when she was nervous.

Penelope gasped and a gigantic smile formed on her face. “You did!?”

“Yeah, I did, here-” she reached for her purse she set on the desk behind them- “I bought it about a week ago.”

She pulled out the grey box and revealed the simple gold band on the inside.

Penelope, extremely excited, grabbed the box with shaking hands. “Oh my gosh, Y/N!”

“Is it weird? I know it’s not normal for a girl to propose-”

“It’s not weird at all, I think it’s a great idea,” Penelope interrupted to clear her doubt. “If he doesn’t do it-”

She stopped and cut herself off, almost revealing the secret she had been trying so hard to keep.

“If he doesn’t accept it, then he’s a total loser,” Penelope stammered as she tried to correct her words.

Y/N laughed at her phrasing, and Penelope laughed too, glad she didn’t think anything of her almost slip up.

“I also got, um, I got our initials engraved on the inside,” Y/N pointed to the small initials on the inside of the band.

“Y/N…” Penelope sighed and took the ring out of her fingers to look at it. “You are so amazing, Spencer will love it.”

Y/N sighed in relief, she needed to hear that. The two kept talking and Penelope was trying to give her some ideas of when to ask him.

“Does anyone else know?” Penelope asked, handing the ring back to Y/N.

“Just my mom and London,” Y/N answered. “London actually helped me pick out the ring, we-”

She stopped herself when her eyes caught the TV.

“Penelope,” Y/N hit the woman’s shoulder to get her to turn around.

“What?”

They both stared at the TV in horror. The headline read “High School Bus Is Taken Hostage”. One cue, Penelope began to get alerts and texts signaling that they have a case.

---------------

“What we have is a school bus abduction which accrued at approximately 1 P.M. this afternoon. What we know is there twenty-four students on board, along with the driver and a monitor,” Y/N said to the small group of detectives that sat in front of her, JJ, and Spencer.

“The GPS appears to have been disabled, the last known ping was a little over two hours ago,” Spencer added.

“Highway patrol has traced the route it was last traveling but has found no signs of any accidents,” Y/N continued on their knowledge of the situation. “We also have helicopters and ground units in the D.C. area working local search and rescue. Which means we’re likely dealing with more than one unsub.”

“We’ve attempted to contact everyone on board, but so far all calls have gone unanswered,” Spencer said.

“But we can confirm that the students dropped off at the first two stops have been accounted for,” JJ added, shedding some hope on the gloomy situation.

“The average school bus holds approximately eighty gallons of diesel fuel, making it possible for them to travel up to 550 miles on a single tank,” Spencer explained, his hands moving as he spoke each word.

“Which is why we believe they’re still within a 200-mile radius,” Y/N closed as she nodded to the detectives.

“The SUVs are outside and we’ll set up our command post at central high,” Hotch said as he rushed past and to the elevators.

Spencer, Y/N, and JJ all glanced at each other, giving a look all the same. Silently saying, ‘This is gonna be a long day’.

They quickly made it down to the front of the building and into the SUVs.

On the drive to the high school, the sirens were on as they tried to make it there as fast as possible.

“Okay, thanks,” Penelope hung up her phone. “Local P.D. says they just found a backpack full of the kids’ cell phones half a mile from the second bus stop.”

“Disarming the GPS, disposing of cell phones, makes it feel less random and more premeditated,” Y/N said as she looked back at Penelope from her seat upfront.

“There were seven other buses from different schools on their route. Why target this particular bus?” Spencer said as he tried to dive into the minds of the unsub.

“Maybe a group of kids got together to pull this off?” Y/N posed.

“Waited for their friends to get off at an earlier stop, then made their move,” Spencer said as he dove more into Y/N’s theory.

“Okay, I’m checking school disciplinary records to see if I can find any recent suspensions.” Penelope pulled out her tablet and began searching.

“It could be about a specific target and the other kids just got in the way,” Hotch added his own thoughts in.

Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket as it rang. “Hey, Blake you’re on speaker.”

“Uh, I’ve been looking over the personnel files of the bus driver, Roy Webster, something isn’t adding up,” Blake said over the phone.

“What did you find?” Spencer’s voice spoke up from his backseat spot behind Y/N.

“Over the past three years, Webster had several altercations with students, but was never formally reprimanded,” Blake answered.

“It sounds like the school hasn’t told us the whole story,” Rossi’s voice was heard over the phone.

“We know how disrespectful some teenagers can be, maybe he snapped,” Derek’s voice was heard next as he posed his thoughts.

“It could be payback for years of abuse,” JJ’s voice said next.

“What about the woman who was on the bus?” Spencer asked.

“That would be Carol Roberts, a retired teacher, assigned to monitor Webster’s bus six months ago,” Kevin Lynch’s voice said.

“What’s that about?” Rossi questioned.

“I took a bus all through high school, we never had a monitor,” Kevin said as he didn’t know the formal answer to the question.

“Makes you wonder who she was there to keep an eye on-- the kids or Webster?” Derek posed.

-----------

Y/N had sat through many family interviews before, comforting them after a loved one had been murdered or taken. She had done it plenty of times to know what words to use, how to act depending on the family, she was trained for it.

This though was a whole new level.

Her chest felt heavy as she listened to the mother explain how her son was a good kid and how it was just him and her. She didn’t know why this one particular interview was taking so much out of her. It felt emotionally draining to watch this mother cry over her young son named Billy. Maybe it was because she could relate to it.

After her older brother died and her father left, it was just her and her mom. She was around his age too when it happened.

Walking out of the classroom she had the interview in, she stalked into the closest bathroom she could find. Her hands pressed against the ceramic sink as she leaned on it to keep herself up. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the white surface tightly. She could feel her pulse course through her hands as it picked up. This was not the time to be emotional, so she didn’t let this moment last too long.

She took a couple of deep breaths, looked at herself in the mirror, and walked out of the bathroom.

She had gotten past her brother dying, sure she missed him every day, but her grief had passed. When she thought about him it was wistful and happy, so she didn’t know why this was bothering her.

She tugged at the bottom of her maroon blazer, making sure it was straight after she opened the door of the bathroom. She took two steps out into the hallway, and glanced to the left and then to her right looking to see if anyone saw her walk out. After assessing she was alone, she let out another sigh and walked down the hall to the performance room.

“Y/N,” Derek called as he jogged down the hallway.

“What’s up, Morgan?” She asked as she turned to the man coming down the hall.

“We’ve got an address.”

The SUVs and squad cars turned up the dust as they parked in front of an old barn. The team hopped out of their respected cars, pulling out their guns as S.W.A.T. unloaded in front of them.

The team stood in anticipation as Hotch nodded for the captain to open the door. As the doors swung open, the S.W.A.T. team entered and walked around the school bus that was parked on the inside.

“Bus is all clear!” Derek yelled from the inside of the bus after checking it.

Y/N followed Spencer as the two walked around the rest of the barn to check it, making sure it was clear and there was nothing else there. When they finished, they walked outside and met Blake who had just checked a shed.

The three holstered their guns as they walked over to the head detective on the case who nodded for them.

“Barn was registered to a Violet Burgin, she died a few months back. It's been abandoned ever since.” the Detective said as he approached them.

“Making this a perfect transfer point,” Y/N said as she glanced back at the barn.

Blake was about to say something, but she was stopped when the sound of the bloodhounds barking was heard.

“They found something,” Spencer said and took out his gun. The four of them along with some others in the immediate area ran towards the dogs.

They approached a wooden door that was latched closed. The Detective placed his hand on the latch, waiting for the S.W.A.T. team member to give him his cue. When he nodded, the Detective pulled the latch and pushed the door open quickly.

“Please don’t hurt us,” a young girl said as they were met with the light from the outside.

“It’s okay you guys are safe now,” Spencer said as he began to undo the bindings on their wrists.

Y/N looked up and began counting the kids in the room as quickly as she could, but of course, Spencer beat her to it.

“There’s only fourteen here, we need to find the other ten,” Spencer looked back at Blake and Y/N who were still standing in the door.

Y/N gripped her gun tighter. She let out an agitated sigh and walked away from the room.

------------

The students ran to their parents as the doors to the cafeteria opened. Y/N sauntered in behind them, watching as the parents hugged their kids, grateful they were okay.

JJ walked up next to her and sighed as they watched the families.

“Where’s Billy?” The brown hair woman who Y/N had interviewed earlier asked walking up to her. Another student, who’s name was Sean, dad walked up behind her.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, for the first time in a long time, she couldn’t phrase the words to tell them that their kids were still missing.

“There’s still a number of students unaccounted for,” JJ answered for Y/N, noticing that she was struggling.

When Billy’s mom gasped, Y/N’s eyes widened and quickly added, “But we’re still looking.”

Sean’s dad walked away but Billy’s mom stayed. “Oh, my god,” she muttered.

Y/N’s lips formed a tight line and she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder to comfort her.

Once the woman had calmed down, Y/N started to make a beeline for that same bathroom she was in before. On her way there, Spencer stopped her, noticing her disheveled state.

“Hey,” he whispered as he stepped in front of her.

She sighed, she didn’t want him to stop her, she didn’t want anyone to stop her.

When she tried to push past him and continue to the bathroom, Spencer put his hand gently on her arm.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” her voice cracked.

“No, it’s not,” he said.

She let out a frustrated sigh. “I was over this, I was over my brother, I thought I was over it.”

“Your brother?” Spencer gave her a confused look. Of course, he knew about her brother, how when he was seventeen he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma. How her dad walked out because of the medical bills, how her mom picked up two jobs to help pay for medical bills. How even Y/N, when she was legally allowed to work, picked up a job to help.

“One of the victims, Billy,” she let out a shaky breath. “It’s just him and his mom, and he’s about the age I was when I lost my brother, and it just hit a nerve, I guess.”

Spencer reached to give her a hug, but she pulled away.

“No, I don’t- no,” she held her hands out as if she was putting up a boundary. “I just need a second to be irritated, just give me one second to be angry at the son’s of a bitch’s who decided it was a good idea to take a bunch of teenagers.”

So Spencer did, he watched as she paced side to side in the locker filled hallway. One hand on her forehead and the other on her hip, muttering curse under her breath.

This is the most irritated Spencer had ever seen her in a case, she was so calm and collected usually. Sure, every now and then she got a little emotional, but so did everyone. This though, this wasn't a sad emotion, she was angry. Furious even.

Spencer jumped as the sound of Y/N’s boot hitting an empty trash can echoed through the hall. She stopped pacing, standing in the middle of the hallway now, her face laying on her palms.

“Okay, I’ll take that hug now.” She walked over to Spencer and wrapped her arms around his waist.

His arms wrapped around her shoulder, his cheeks pressed against the top of her head. He turned his lips to kiss the top of her head softly, keeping them there until they pulled apart from their hug.

Another reason she loved Spencer so much, he knew when to give her a second to breathe. Sure he was always there for her when she needed him, and vice versa, but sometimes she just needed to deal with her emotions on her own. And Spencer understood and respected that.

---------------

“Dividing them into groups-- you think that was to maintain control?” JJ asked as they stared at the pictures of the still missing students on the board.

“Mm, could be, but how do you explain the shock collars?” Blake asked as she remembered the collars that one of the students told her about.

“Torture,” Y/N said in a monotone voice. She stirred the coffee in her cup with a straw aimlessly, still upset about not being to find all the kids.

“Still, there doesn’t seem to be any method to how or why they were chosen,” Spencer added the thing they still hadn’t figured out.

“Okay, so far we have two white males, early twenties, and wore gas masks of all things,” JJ recapped on their findings.

“Abducting a bus, a form of transportation, gas masks, shock collars, dividing people into teams…” Rossi trailed off as he walked up to the board.

“Sounds like ‘Gods of Combat’,” Y/N muttered as she listened to what Rossi was listing, the thought just coming out of her mouth like it was nothing.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Rossi pointed at Y/N.

“Wait, Rossi-” Y/N pushed herself off the desk she was leaning on- “We’re not seriously considering-”

“That this is a video game to them? Yes, I think it is.”

Everyone in the room looked at each other, all of them knowing it made sense and it was probably the most probable with what was going on.

-----------

“These guys are replicating a video game?” Derek asked as he, Rossi, and Blake entered the room.

“In the game, you take over a form of public transportation; subway, train, bus. That’s how you get your players,” Rossi explained.

“Wait a minute,” Blake stopped Rossi. “You’ve played this game before?”

“Well, I may have once or twice,” Rossi admitted. “But so has Y/N.”

When Rossi pointed an accusing finger at her, she raised her eyebrows in shock. “Rossi, I only played it because the kids I babysat made me, what’s your excuse?”

Everyone shook their heads as they laughed.

“If I remember correctly though, the game consists of five players.” Y/N walked up to a whiteboard and pulled out a marker. “Captain, lieutenant, a pair of soldiers, and the pawn.”

She wrote each of the positions on the board.

“Maybe the unsubs picked them based on their personality type,” JJ said as she looked at the pictures of the students.

“Well, Sage and Trent-” Derek pointed to the two pictures- “are both athletic. So they probably would have been considered lieutenants.”

“Wendy would most likely have been considered the pawn,” Rossi added.

“They preselected these kids.” Y/N crossed her arms as she turned back to face those behind her.

“Probably got details about their lives from social media sites. Most teens don’t use privacy settings, anyone can gain access,” JJ said.

“They planned their attacks and struck the bus when it was the most vulnerable,” Blake nodded.

“That explains why the unsubs only needed ten of these kids and left the rest behind,” Derek added.

“So how do the collars fit into all this?” JJ asked, looking between Y/N and Rossi.

“They’re used to keep your player from straying from their mission,” Rossi replied.

“The object of the game is to destroy as many of your opponents as possible,” Y/N added on to the game.

“The one with the highest body count wins,” Rossi continued.

----------------

“So these guys just got together and decided to pull this thing off?” The Detective asked as Spencer, Y/N, and he walked down the hall back to the performance room.

“You know, something this elaborate, it’s likely they’ve known each other for years, actually,” Spencer clarified.

As the three continued to walk, Penelope appeared behind them as she walked out of the computer lab with her laptop.

“Hey, I just got off the phone with the people who produce ‘Gods of Combat’--”

“Lovely people I assume,” Y/N joked, trying to keep some light heart in the air. It was mostly for herself though, so she wouldn’t think too much about being upset.

“Uh-huh, it turns out they have six million players worldwide, 40,000 of which are D.C. residents,” Penelope continued.

“Garcia, if they’re capable of this type of violence in real life, do you think we’d see some sort of evidence of it in their gaming history?” Spencer asked, stammering as he tried to find the right terminology.

“What type of evidence?” The Detective asked.

“He’s talking about the universal online gaming code of conduct,” Y/N answered.

“Yeah, prevents stuff like harassing, threatening other players, cyber-bullying, that kind of thing,” Penelope gave some more elaboration on the subject.

“How’s that supposed to help us find these kids?” The detective asked confused as to why it was relevant.

“Instead of looking for people who play the game, we need to look for people who were kicked out,” Hotch answered.

----------------

Y/N sipped on her fourth coffee of the night. She sat criss-cross applesauce on the table next to Spencer as they waited for Penelope to come up with some findings from the new info Kevin narrowed it down to.

“Okay, a month ago two players were kicked out at the same time for hacking into hell mod,” Penelope said as she continued to type on her computer to find more. “Previous to that, they both logged thousands of hours playing the game, dating back to early 2000.”

“You got any names, Garcia?” Derek asked, back still faced to the three sitting at or on the table.

“No, just online handles, but--” she stopped herself as a ping on her computer sounded- “You know what’s weird? They were both playing from the same IP address.”

“So they live together.” Y/N peered at Penelope’s screen.

“They’re roommates, maybe?” Spencer posed, walking to stand beside Penelope as she typed.

“Or siblings,” Derek argued.

“Oh that’s not good,” Y/N muttered into her cup as she took another sip.

“It doesn’t make sense,” JJ said after those in the room caught her up to speed with their findings. “If they are siblings, how do you explain the gaps in time when they weren’t logged in at the same location?”

“Yeah, it looks like it happened several times a year, sometimes from different states,” Penelope agreed as she looked at the time logs.

“Maybe their parents got divorced.” Spencer looked up to JJ and Y/N who were currently standing next to each other.

“Maybe the parent got divorced,” Penelope repeated and began typing again. The new thought gave her a fire that had burned out after the confusion formed. “Leave it to the genius to come up with the obvious, here we go.”

As her ramble ended, two pictures popped up on the screen.

“Joshua and Matthew Moore. They both went to central high, their parents worked two jobs each to make ends meet, led to a messy divorce. Joshua went to live with his dad in Arizona, Matthew stayed with his mom in D.C.”

“That’s how they knew when to strike,” Y/N pointed her finger. “Probably rode the same bus route.”

“Long hours, different schedules, they were latchkey kids,” Derek added. “Video games became their babysitters.”

“As they got older, they got more competitive and it became more about bragging rights,” Spencer continued the deep dive of the unsubs stressor.

“This game became the core of their sibling rivalry,” JJ continued.

“But it wasn’t just a game,” Y/N corrected. “ ‘Gods of Combat’ was their one constant connection to each other.”

--------------

“Picked up a ping on the E.L.F.,” Kevin said as he entered the room. “It’s emanating from somewhere in this 25-mile radius, west of Bolivar.”

Kevin circled the area of the map he set down.

“What fits?” Blake asked as she looked down at the map.

“Well, there’s a few old factories and a couple of bunkers from the ‘70s,” Kevin replied.

“What’s this?” Y/N pointed to a building on the map.

“The old paper mill,” Kevin answered.

“You know, given the size and location, that could be the perfect spot.” Spencer used the pencil in his hand to tap the spot on the map as he spoke.

They all looked up at Kevin.

“I’m gonna pull the schematics,” Kevin exited the room to do so.

Soon after Kevin did that, Penelope was able to get in contact with one of the kids, Billy, by hacking the feed. They compared the rooms they could see on Billy’s camera and established it was the paper mill.

Then they were on their way there.

The team walked into the paper mill, mixed in between different members of S.W.A.T..

Y/N crept down the hall with Derek, each of them turning to check a different opening as they saw one. When they heard pounding footsteps, they jerked towards the sound.

“FBI, drop your weapon,” Y/N commanded the person she couldn’t quite make out in the dark, all she could see was the gun.

“I’m Agent Morgan, this is Agent Y/L/N,” Derek said as he tried to calm the boy. “We’re the good guys, now drop the weapon.”

“How do I know this isn't part of the game?” The boy whimpered.

“Kid, you gotta trust me,” Derek said, trying to make the boy back his guard down.

“Are you Billy?” Y/N asked calmly.

At his name, the boy turned to look at her, his gun lowering slightly.

“Yes.”

“Billy, you gotta trust us, you talked to our friend Penelope, remember?” Y/N spoke in a soothing tone.

“Come on, now, I know you’re scared, but don’t do anything stupid,” Derek spoke in a not so soothing tone.

Billy hesitated, still afraid this was a part of the game, but then bent his knees and put the gun on the ground. Y/N sighed in relief and was about to walk towards him, but out of the corner of her eye she saw movement.

Joshua Moore appeared, a large gun held to his side.

“Drop your weapon!” Derek yelled.

When he realized he was cornered, his finger went for the trigger.

In an almost slow motion moment, Y/N aimed her gun and shot before he could do the same thing. The bullet went right through his chest, and the blood began to spread on his white shirt.

Joshua dropped to his knees, then fell to the ground as he let out a breath of pain.

Derek rushed over to check Joshua, but Y/N’s only concern was for the teenage boy whose mom had told her about.

“Hey, Billy, it’s alright.” She grabbed his arm and led him out of the room, not allowing him to look at Joshua’s now dead body. “Your mom has been worried sick about you.”

“You-you saw my mom?” He stuttered as a smile of joy and relief washed over his face.

“Yeah,” and as they walked into the cool night air, his mom called his name.

He broke away from Y/N’s grasp and ran to his mom to give her a hug. And even though the circumstances wouldn’t normally allow it, Y/N smiled. She smiled as she got to watch the boy hug his mom, holding her like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, Trent,” a girl behind Y/N whimpered as a body bag rolled past.

For a moment, Y/N forgot where she was and what she had been doing, because she was thinking about the last time she got to hang out with her mom and brother together. The memory used to be painful, but now she looked back on it happily. The last time she saw her older brother smile a real smile. One that didn’t show pain from chemo, one that didn’t show he was dying, one that showed how happy he was to be with them.

-----------

Y/N closed the report from the case on her desk softly, laying her hand on top of it. She let her cheeks bubble out as she filled them with air, then let it out slowly from her lips. The office was quiet, everyone else gone. The team was still there though, finishing up some reports and the political side of the job.

“We saved them,” Spencer reminded her as he walked over, his tall figure towering her sitting one.

“Yeah, I know, it’s not that,” she confessed, but didn’t look up at him, knowing he could read her eyes like the back of his hand. Or the back of anything really, seeing as he had an eidetic memory.

“What is it then?” He asked, leaning against her desk.

“For a split second today, I forgot I was at the scene of a crime,” she finally met his eyes. “I saw Billy reunite with his mom and I forgot where I was...because he reminded me of him.”

“Your brother?”

Y/N nodded.

“Oh, sweets, it’s okay to miss him you know? He was your older brother, and it was a terrible thing that he got sick--”

“Spencer, I know that, I know all that,” she cut him off, her voice soft and not cutting. “It’s just, I don’t know…”

She rubbed her bicep with her hand and averted her gaze. She turned in her swivel chair to the family photos on her desk. In a line three photos sat; one of her and her mom at her college graduation, one of her and the team at a dinner Rossi hosted, and one of her and Spencer, from JJ’s wedding. These photos all showed people who were so important in her life, people she loved...people who were there.

“You feel guilty for not going to visit him,” Spencer said, catching onto her guilt as she stared at the photos.

“I think so,” she murmured looking up at him.

He smiled at her sadly. Reaching down, he grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her seat. “How about we go home, order some food, then tomorrow, you can talk to Hotch about going home to visit your mom?”

“I think I like that idea,” she quivered, a stray tear falling down her face. Man, was she grateful for this man.

She picked up her bag from beside her desk, lacing her fingers with his and walked out of the office with him.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg @nanocoool @marceline-is-my-spirit-animal @fancyfaucet @im-a-raging-gay @atletino @mo-whore @peterparkersdestiny @bandsandjill @mbowles23-blog @sarcasm-n-insomnia @citrussirus @nerual222 @april-14-blog @reidloversisforever @heavenlyholland @justawildmarebae @sana-li @thesailbells @l0ve-0f-my-life @spencer101reid @spencersdolore @delicateprunecashpony @sader12345678 @dashlilymark @mysticalmagicmoon @onebigfangirlworld @saturn-mp4 @hurricanejjareau @thatweirdo466 @angryknightstatesmantrash @nograciass @danandphilfan6 @la-vie-en-amour1 @squirrellover1967 @reidswords @skyirates @spideyspencer @harrypressman @justine-en @absolutelynotsophie @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @mailikestruecrimetoomuch @dadchi-oya @marley1773 @lashtonandmalumsbaby

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds meme #criminal minds imagine #criminal mids fic #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #aaron hotchner #Penelope Garcia #emily prentiss

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Photo

“Pardon the way that I stare -- There's nothin' else to compare... The sight of you leaves me weak; There are no words left to speak, But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real... You're just too good to be true -- Can't take my eyes off of you...”

~“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (cover),” by Joseph Vincent

x~x~x~x

For my next installment of my “Valentine’s Day” series where I feature each of my kids and some of the people they care about most, I present to you Jackson Knightly with his future love interest Montelimar Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier and Monty’s BFF, Orla Atkinson @hphm-brooke! I think this particular post fits @kathrynalicemc‘s wonderful Valentine’s Ball prompt perfectly, as well, since it takes place at a Valentine’s Day ball and features these babies in formal wear!

In Jackson’s fifth year, he still saw Monty solidly as a friend. That all changed, however, during a Valentine’s Day ball Jackson helped organize with his BFF Adelia “Addy” Selwyn @that-ravenpuff-witch and several other students.

Jackson was greatly looking forward to the event. Not only did he pull out all the stops to make sure the place was decorated beautifully with swan-shaped ice sculptures, marble cherubs, and white roses, but all of his friends -- his “sweet Demiguise,” Hirtia “Tia” Caldwell @cursed-ice-spirits; his “lady Vipertooth,” Orla “Lala” Atkinson; his “brilliant Frenchman,” Montelimar “Monty” Bloom -- would be in attendance. Jackson had ended up inviting a fourth year student from Hufflepuff named Felicity Abbott as his “date” for the event, after finding her sitting in the stands alone after the recent Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sobbing inconsolably into her handkerchief -- it was out of pity more than anything, but Jackson hated seeing the young lady cry all by herself.

Jackson came down the grand staircase toward the Great Hall in a set of gold-trimmed white dress robes and very slender, fitted gold slacks over a pair of black ankle boots, looking like a charming prince out of some Muggle fairy tale. No one had spotted him descending the stairs yet, so he scanned the room -- and what caught his eye first was a tall boy his age with spectacles, dressed in handsome grayish-blue dress robes with tails and a matching vest over a white shirt and slacks. It was Monty, chatting with his best friend Orla -- Monty was visibly flustered, but both of them were smiling. Despite himself, Jackson found himself smiling more softly than most anyone was used to seeing. Bloom had always been so modest, he thought to himself...even with how handsome he clearly was. The thought stuck in Jackson’s head strangely -- certainly, Monty was handsome, few would probably question it, but...well, it wasn’t exactly something men were supposed to think about each other, was it? His father certainly wouldn’t have approved if Jackson had ever verbalized such a sentiment...

Fortunately Jackson was quickly distracted by several members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming up to talk to him, and ever the showman, Jackson put on his broadest, most confident smile and went about socializing. He then slowly made his way over to Monty and Orla, his ocean-blue eyes alight with good humor.

“Lala, my precious Vipertooth!”

Jackson took Orla’s hand and used it to twirl her around like a little girl playing princess.

“You look absolutely radiant, my dear,” he fawned over her.

Orla’s lips spread into a cool smirk as she rested her free hand on her hip. “I should hope so, considering you picked this dress out for me.”

“I’d like to think I have good taste, Lala,” said Jackson with a mischievous grin. “The lavender makes your eyes pop just so.”

His eyes trailed over to Monty, lingering briefly on the gold buttons on his lapel before moving up to his face.

“...I must say, Bloom...you’ve really cleaned up most handsomely. Is there a lady here you thought to impress?”

Monty flushed, but put on a modest smile all the same. “Oh no, not at all...I merely thought to try to dress for the occasion, as best I could.”

Once again, Jackson found his expression softening a bit. Even now that Monty was more confident than when they’d first met, the Ravenclaw still sometimes blushed like a shy schoolgirl. It was actually quite endearing.

Monty’s smile grew a bit wryer as he added, “I must thank you for the compliment, Jackson, considering that -- as always -- you have a knack for standing out.”

Jackson grinned. “I certainly try.”

Out the side of his eye, he caught sight of Felicity Abbott, her face bright with a smile and dressed in pink satin, waving at him from the top of the stairs.

“Please excuse me,” he said softly, “I owe the lady at least one dance tonight, as her escort. If you see Addy, tell her I’ll follow up with her shortly -- I’d like to add some twinkling lights to the roses trimming the windows, once it gets darker outside...”

He inclined his head to his friends before moving to greet the younger Hufflepuff.

Jackson had been nothing but a gentleman with Felicity Abbott, as he would’ve been for any other young lady he might offer a dance to. She seemed to be having a good time, and Jackson was grateful for it -- he didn’t know her at all and he quite frankly didn’t think that she’d be anything but an acquaintance for him in the future, but even so, he had a sensitive enough heart to hate the thought of someone not having fun at a party, especially a party celebrating Valentine’s Day. What Jackson had not expected, however, was Gryffindor’s tall, broad-chested seventh-year Quidditch Captain stepping right in front of him and Felicity.

“Torquil Travers,” greeted Jackson.

Travers’s eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jackson’s face. “Care to explain what the hell you think you’re doing, Knightly?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dancing with my woman,” Travers hissed through bare teeth.

His eyes flashed at Felicity, who trembled visibly.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly under his raised eyebrows.

“Now, Mr. Travers...surely Miss Abbott at least merits being called ‘your lady,’ rather than something so crude?”

He spoke as pleasantly as he could, given the stink eye the Gryffindor was fixing him with, but he did take a subtle step to the side so as to create something of a physical barrier between Travers and Felicity with his body. This only served to make Travers angrier.

“Felicity is my intended,” he spat. “She is my wife in practice, if not yet by law, and therefore mine.”

“A person is hardly something to be treated like an object to possess,” Jackson said in a low voice that betrayed a sharp edge despite the cool calm of his expression. “Nor like a caged animal that follows a man’s direction.”

He glanced at Felicity, whose face had gone very white and scared. He immediately tried to comfort her with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come, Miss Abbott,” he said, “let us be off -- ”

But before Jackson could steer her away, Travers grabbed the back of Jackson’s robes, roughly pulling him backward and away from the younger girl. Felicity screamed.

“You will not touch her again, you filthy Muggle-bred ponce!” snarled Travers.

Jackson amazingly responded to Travers’s fury with a broad, gleaming white smirk. “‘Filthy?’ Come now, Mr. Travers, surely you could come up with a more targeted insult than that -- these robes are clearly spotless.”

His tiny brown eyes widening with rage, Travers raised a fist --

BAM.

Before his knuckles could collide with Jackson’s jaw, however, Monty had appeared out of nowhere. Dashing forward, he’d forcibly put up an arm and stepped right between Jackson and Travers so that the Slytherin commentator was behind him and Traver’s fist whammed right into his left shoulder instead.

Jackson’s eyes grew very wide. “Bloom...!”

The blow made Monty rock back slightly and clutch his shoulder, visibly winded, but he regained his footing quickly, his eyes narrowing upon Travers’s face.

“That is enough,” Monty said in a very low, firm voice. “Travers...I think it would be best if you take a step back and a deep breath. A physical altercation is hardly a good way to settle such a dispute -- especially when there are teachers present.”

He indicated the Charms and Transfiguration professors, who were striding through the assembling crowd as if to discover the source of their interest.

Travers’s fists were shaking with rage, but he seemed to know he wouldn’t be able to get his way or evade punishment if he persisted. And so, shooting a venomous look at Jackson over Monty’s shoulder, he shoved past the pair and disappeared off into the crowd.

Jackson grabbed onto Monty’s robes from behind, almost cradling his back. His face was unusually pale.

“Bloom -- my -- you’re hurt...”

For once, he seemed to have trouble speaking coherently. His hand came up to the spot on Monty’s chest where Travers’s fist had landed.

Monty flinched ever-so-slightly, but smiled reassuringly at him. “Oh...don’t worry, Jackson. It’ll just be a small bruise, I think -- ”

“It should be dealt with straight away,” Jackson said in a strangely sharp and faintly shaky voice.

He looked at Felicity. “Miss Abbott...I see my dear Addy by the far window with Mr. Ellison. Please, remain in their company until I return: I’ll be back shortly.”

And with that, Jackson had escorted Monty out of the Great Hall and to an abandoned hallway a short ways away from the party. He’d insisted on Monty sitting down on a window ledge and removing his robes and shirt just enough to show his left shoulder, so that Jackson could work on healing the injury before it could darken with a bruise. Jackson hated the Hospital Wing as well as hospitals in general, so he’d gotten very used to treating himself whenever he was hurt.

Monty himself could see how tense Jackson was: tenser than he’d ever seen him previously. It truly hadn’t been that horrible -- certainly it would’ve been far worse if Travers had elected to take out his wand instead -- but Jackson still seemed very upset. And he was: Jackson’s emotions were very turbulent indeed.

Monty had protected him. It wasn’t out-of-character for him at all, really, but he’d never physically protected him quite like that before...allowed himself to get hurt, in order to shield him from harm. Jackson hadn’t really had anyone do something like that for him before. Sure, perhaps Adelia would scold someone’s face off on his behalf or Orla would hex someone into next week for having said something, but those were entertaining. This was decidedly not. This was different. It made Jackson’s heart swell with concern and yet also such pride and warmth and admiration and caring...and yet for as new as the feeling felt, it truly didn’t feel unfamiliar. It felt second-nature...almost...like coming home...

“Jackson?” said Monty gently.

Jackson was brought out of his thoughts, but he didn’t look up from Monty’s shoulder. Instead he finished the Healing spell he was casting and then helped pull Monty’s shirt back on.

“There we are,” he murmured, as he fastened Monty’s buttons. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Better,” admitted Monty.

He watched Jackson’s face carefully. “Jackson...I’m grateful for the help, but I’m all right, truly...”

He brought a hand onto Jackson’s buttoning his collar, making the smaller man halt.

“You don’t need to worry.”

The two’s eyes met. Although both men’s eyes were blue, it was like a calm freshwater lake meeting a rushing ocean: both beautiful and cool, and yet completely different in attitude. Monty’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but his face was very composed. Jackson’s face was anything but, especially when his own cheeks actually started to redden too.

“I...suppose I have lost my composure somewhat,” he said, his eyes falling back down to his hands on Monty’s shirt almost self-consciously.

He finished buttoning up his collar and then helped him pull his grayish-blue robes back on, trying to plaster on one of his charming smiles.

“...What can I say, I’m...not used to some dashing hero coming to my rescue,” he teased.

Monty smiled. “Well, I couldn’t very well do nothing, seeing you face off against a mountain troll like that, could I?”

Jackson couldn’t bite back a laugh. He looked up at Monty, his ocean-blue eyes and smile alight with more of that strange, unique softness he’d felt -- the sort that, truly, only a precious few ever were the subject of.

“Of course not, my brilliant Frenchman.”

And it was that day that Jackson Knightly’s heart knew what it took a lot longer for him to admit aloud -- he loved Montelimar Bloom with everything that he was.

#ValentinesBallHPHL #my art #jackson knightly #montelimar bloom #orla atkinson #adelia selwyn #my writing #valentine's day #singles awareness day #orla's swan collar GACK I loved designing that #lala isn't the type to show a lot of skin so I had a lot of fun trying to design something modest and pretty for her #she is a lovely fashion template brooke my dear <3 #I see her having been counseling her BFF since monty had heard jackson had a date for the event #and of course poor monty had a crush on jacko long before that stupid charmer ever got a clue #poor jacko was raised by a rather hypermasculine and homophobic father so it takes him a while to be open with his sexuality #even though let's be honest his 'closet' is pretty close to invisible even before he comes out #*pets jackson*#first time writing for monty!#I hope I did your bb justice darling <3

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ijwrff · 3 years ago

Text

Dark x Dusk x Phantom

For @serenitydusk ! I hope you like it and I wrote Dusk well XD

Something was going to happen today. Dusk knew not what it was, but kept herself guarded in case that something would be dangerous.

She was visiting an establishment on Earth that Ash has recommended. Supposedly it was owned by a...collector of sorts. Perhaps he was the reason she felt guarded. She knew better than to make deals, so she wasn’t particularly worried about him.

She entered the establishment and walked towards the bar, before sitting down and ordering her favorite drink. There was a rather...attractive man serving guests at the bar.

He walked over to her and looked almost surprised.

“To what do I have the pleasure of being visited by the queen of Annwn?”

“How did you…”

“Know it was you?” He smirked, “You carry yourself like a queen. And word gets around. I have several...contracts with people from Annwn. They had mentioned their queen would be on Earth, and I’ve gotten to know your brother quite well.”

“A queen? Of Annwn?” Another voice spoke up, and she turned to see another well dressed man. His aura was blue and red, and occasionally she could see said aura as he walked up to her at the bar.

“Back off Dark...this one’s mine.” Phantom pitched in, clearly having a dislike for ‘Dark’.

This only served to irk Dusk. “Yours? Please...I am owned by no man, nor woman. I am my own.” Dark smirked at these words, feeling briefly that he had won this altercation.

Dark stepped forward and sat by Dusk at the bar. “May I buy you your next drink?” Phantom scoffed, but got the drinks for the two of you. Though he clearly wasn’t one to be deterred easily.

“You may.” Dusk remained guarded, knowing that these two were clearly not human by the auras they projected. She had experience dealing with nonhumans, as Annwn was full of them. But this was Earth...she did not have as much experience dealing with the demons and monsters that Earth had to offer.

“Back off Dark…” he repeated as the words came out as a warning, but Dark smiled a cold and guarded smile.

“What? You think you can’t woo a woman with competition? How childish of you to think so.” They clearly did not like each other, but Dusk was curious to see where this would go.

“I am not one to be ‘woo’ed as easily. If either of you thinks you stand a chance you'll have to try a lot harder than that.” Both men gave a smile, clearly up for the challenge.

“Of course little queen,” Dark began, “You are no prize to be won...rather a challenge I happily accept.”

“I accept as well, it is clear you are a woman worth fighting for.” Phantom gave her a smile, “I am willing to work for it.” He poured another drink and gave it to her with a wink.

She had not planned on drinking much initially, but she wouldn’t turn down free drinks. Besides, her tolerance for Earth’s alcohol was significantly high because of how strong drinks in Annwn could be. It would take many...many more drinks to get to her.

Dark spoke up “Allow me a chance, what do you say to a dinner with me, say...tomorrow night?” The smile he gave her was genuine, much unlike the smile he had given to Phantom.

Speaking of Phantom, he scoffed, “why would she want to go to dinner with you?” He turned to Dusk, “how about we go shopping. I could show you all the best places here on Earth? Whatever you find that you want I will buy for you.”

Dusk let out a laugh, “now how am I supposed to turn down either one of you?” She was intrigued, but she couldn’t tell who she’d rather go with.

Phantom sighed, “as much as I dislike the idea of you going with him, what do you say to going on both dates and deciding from thereon who you would rather spend time with?” The proposal shocked Dusk, not expecting that reaction.

“I agree. You should have firsthand experience with the both of us before you decide you’d rather spend time with me.” Dark was clearly confident in his abilities to get Dusk on his side. Though Phantom seemed just as confident.

“Please, she’d pick me.” Phantom spoke up.

“I will go on dates with the both of you, though I don’t think picking one would be easy. Though the decision will be mine and mine alone.” Dusk was almost flattered that both wanted her so badly. This could be fun…

Both men gave her a smile, happy she would give them the chance. It wasn’t every day that they could take a queen on a date. It would be an understatement to say both men were enthusiastic about the idea of taking Dusk to a date.

“Thank you little queen. We will both respect your decision when the time comes.”

“For once I agree with you.”

Clearly they wouldn’t stop fighting with each other. However...Dusk felt ready to go on both dates. She would give them both a chance. They were both rather attractive in their own ways too, which was an additional bonus.

Dusk stood up, prepared to head out. “I will see you soon, I will go on my date with Dark tomorrow and Phantom the day after.”

Phantom seemed upset that he was going to get his day second, but didn’t voice it. He quickly got over it and gave Dusk a last smile before she left.

“We will see you soon, little queen.”

“Until we meet again”

This would be interesting...

#darkiplier x dusk x phantom #darkiplier x dusk #phantom x dusk #oc #not my oc

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btsqualityy · 5 years ago

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Just One of Those Days

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut, the slightest amount of angst

Warnings: shower sex, unprotected sex, oral (Hobi receiving), and cum swallowing

Author’s Note: So, I’m back with another installment of NSFW imagines for the couples from the Toddler Series! You do not need to have read the Toddler Series (or any of my other series, for that matter) in order to read this, since it’s a stand alone. Despite the current Second Pregnancy Series that I have ongoing right now, all 7 of these imagines are set before the members are expecting their second (or third, in Hobi’s case) child. I hope you guys enjoy them!

Every once in a while, you noticed that you would have those days where it just seemed like nothing would go right. Today was one of those days.

You had a horrible day at work, getting yelled at for something that wasn’t your fault. When you picked Lennox and Berkeley up from school after you got off work, you found out that Lennox had gotten into an altercation with another student that almost ended in a fight and that Berkeley hadn’t been listening to her teacher all day. Once you got them home, their bad attitudes continued and you had to deal with them. And last but not least, Hobi came home with the worst attitude that you’ve seen on him in a while, all because rehearsal with the members didn’t go the way that he thought it should.

On days like these, it was easy for you and Hobi to take your frustrations out on each other. Most of the time, you were able to keep your composure because his bad attitudes were truly few and far between but today, you just didn’t care; which led to the two of you having multiple hushed toned arguments throughout the last part of the day.

Originally, the anger had made you feel like you were right and that Hobi was just being a dick but now that you were sat in the twins’ bedroom, watching them sleep peacefully after the hell that they raised all day, you realized that you had been a pretty big dick yourself.

“God, I hate having to apologize,” you murmured to yourself, dreading it because you knew that Hobi probably wasn’t gonna make it easy for you but you knew that you needed to do it. After leaving soft kisses on both Berkeley’s and Lennox’s foreheads, you tiptoed out of their room and slowly shut the door behind you before walking down the hallway to your and Hobi’s shared bedroom. When you walked in, you didn’t see him in the room but you heard the shower running so you knew that he was in the bathroom.

Once you had crossed the room and pushed open the bathroom door, you could see the silhouette of Hobi’s body through the shower glass door. You walked over to it, taking a deep breath before lifting your hand and knocking lightly on the glass. You could Hobi jump in surprise and you almost would’ve laughed at his reaction but you figured that he probably wouldn’t appreciate that. He turned around and pushed the shower door to the side, poking his head out.

“Everything ok?” He wondered and you nodded, taking a second to watch a few drops of water slide down from his hair onto his face.

“Yeah, I got them down to sleep ok,” you told him and a somewhat awkward silence fell over the two of you.

“Well, did you need anything?” Hobi asked impatiently.

“I’d like for you to talk to me,” you replied.

“I’m in the shower and if I’m being honest, I’m not up to being cursed out any more today,” he shot back.

“You weren’t so diplomatic yourself,” you hissed without thinking but you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling it before opening your eyes again. “Look, do you mind if I join you?”

“Y/N-ah,” he started but you cut him off.

“I just wanna talk Hobi,” you said. “You were almost done showering right? So you can feel free to opt out at any time.” He exhaled harshly, knowing that you weren’t gonna give this up so he nodded curtly before stepping back into the shower. You quickly stripped out of your clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor before stepping into the shower with him. He casually moved out of the way, letting you step in underneath the shower head in order to wet your body and hair. While you did that, you decided to try and break the ice.

“What happened at work today?” You asked him.

“I told you.”

“Tell me again,” you shrugged, grabbing a towel and squeezing some body wash onto it. “In more detail, if you want.”

“Well, you know how we’re getting ready for that show?” He said and you nodded as you washed your body. “Today we found out that the stage is way smaller than we thought it would be so we had to redo the choreography and it was a pain in the ass.”

“Why?”

“Why was it a pain in the ass?” Hobi wondered for clarification and you nodded. “Because it felt like we had to water the choreography down, in a sense, and you know I hate that.”

“I do know,” you agreed as you rinsed off your body and once you were done, you turned around to face him. “I had a bad day too.”

“You never did tell me what happened,” he murmured.

“My boss thought I made this big mistake and I didn’t. He apologized once he knew that I didn’t do it but my mood was already fucked, you know?” You told him. “And then with the twins getting in trouble at school today and then they kept it up when we got home, it was just a long day.”

“For all four of us,” he noted and you nodded. Sighing softly, you stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Hobi, I’m sorry for yelling at you and for everything that I said to you,” you apologized. “It’s true that our day today was terrible but that was no reason for me to take it out on you.

“I’m sorry too jagi,” he muttered, finally moving his hands so that they were on your hips. “Usually, I can deal with your attitudes but after today, I just didn’t have the patience.”

“And that’s fair,” you replied, reaching up and letting your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re allowed to have bad days too baby.”

“God, we’re a pair of jerks,” he chuckled and you couldn’t help but to laugh.

“Maybe, but you’re my jerk and I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you more,” he smiled, leaning in and kissing you firmly. The kiss quickly turned passionate, with Hobi wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him while you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He slipped his thigh in between your legs and you couldn’t help but to start grinding on it, the feeling of your clit against his wet skin making you shiver.

“Fuck, can I?” He asked and you nodded your consent instantly, lifting your leg up and hooking it around his waist as he grabbed the shaft of his cock and slowly pushed the head inside of you.

“Fuck Hobi,” you whined, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder as he slowly worked you open with deep, long thrusts.

“How are you this tight when I just fucked you last night?” He groaned and you moaned before you were able to answer him.

“Maybe it’s the stress?” You guessed and he chuckled deeply.

“Doubt it,” he said, reaching down and palming your ass as he began thrusting into you faster.

“Shit, that’s deep,” you whined.

“But if feels good though, yeah?” He checked in.

“So fucking good,” you nodded. You tightened your grip on him as he fucked you harder, moans tumbling from your lips as you held onto him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again and you lifted your head at them, looking at him in confusion.

“I thought that we got our apologies out.”

“I’m apologizing for my temper,” he clarified. “I know that when I get like that and we argue, it can seem like I don’t care but I promise you that I do.”

“I know baby, I know,” you told him, groaning when you felt the tip of his cock hit your g-spot.

“I love you so fucking much,” he grunted and you knew that he was close because you felt his cock pulse inside of you. “And the kiddos too.”

“We know,” you repeated with a chuckle. “I love you too.” You then pressed your lips to his, the two of you kissing each other sloppily. A loud moan erupted from your throat and fell against Hobi’s lips, and he growled softly.

“Gonna come baby?” He asked and you whimpered in reply. Your orgasm peaked then, and you dug your nails into the skin on Hobi’s upper back as you came. You heard him grunt several times and you patted his hands to get him to let you go. Once he did, you slowly put your leg down and pulled him out of you, sinking down onto your knees right after and taking ahold of his cock in your hand.

“I’m sorry too,” you simpered as you looked up at him, stroking his cock in your hand firmly. “I know I can be a bitch.”

“Baby, no,” he murmured, a loud moan coming from him as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock. “It was just a hard day.”

“Still,” you huffed after taking him out of your mouth, your tongue slipping out and licking at the underside of his cock which made him moan. “That’s no excuse.”

“I forgive you,” he nodded as he set his hands on top of your head. “Now, please make me come.”

“Mm,” you cooed, taking him back into your mouth and stroking his length that you couldn’t reach with your mouth. Hobi couldn’t help himself and began thrusting his hips, forcing his cock down your throat and you placed both of our hands on his thighs, letting him use your mouth. With several guttural moans, his cum shot into your mouth and you swallowed around him, making Hobi whimper from the feeling.

“Holy shit,” he exhaled harshly, slowly moving his hips back and pulling his cock out of your mouth. He grabbed your hands and helped you up, kissing you softly as soon as you were steady. “I’m sorry.”

“Forget it,” you told him, waving your hand. “It was just a bad day, yeah? Not a bad life.”

“Never a bad life with you,” he smiled and you did the same before kissing him again.

#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts jhope #bts hoseok #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #jhope smut #jhope angst #jhope fluff #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenarios #jung hoseok

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lillaxtrigger · 3 years ago

Text

Young Hope: Chapter 40

The afternoon sun beats down upon the planes of suburbia just outside of Townsville; some of its warming light beaming straight through the window of a residence and cast upon the bottom half of a blue haired woman, who stands atop a step stool as she reaches up to her kitchen ceiling fan. Carefully does she continue to unscrew the fan’s frame keeping it atop the kitchen, each screw she twists out dropping down into the palm of her hand; one of them winds up slipping out from her grasp and falling to the tile floor. As she peers down to the screw that had just dropped, the woman is left astonished when finding a lone limb of pure black slither through the air underneath; the shock alone upsetting her balance and causing her to fall right off the stool and onto the floor. Amidst shaking off the short fall does the blue haired woman then watch’s the slithering limb split apart into two; one part reaching over to the fridge while the other heads up to the cabinet beside. From within the fridge does one strand pull out the jug of whole milk while the other takes out a tall glass out from the cabinet; pouring the milk right up near the rim of the glass before neatly putting the galleon right back inside before slithering back through the kitchen with glass in hand.

With a short breath escaping from her lips does the woman’s daughter race right on into the kitchen; giving the woman a hand as she asks:

“Mom! You alright?”

“Yeah Mally. Just got a little spooked by Roy’s new arm is all.” the mother explains as she’s pulled back onto her feet. “Oh yeah. It’s taking me a little bit longer to get used to too.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m so glad for Roy getting a brand new arm to replace the old one he lost several months back, but the way you described how it just came bursting out from his arm socket still has me concerned. Have you at least talked to him about it yet?” “I’ve been giving him some time to enjoy having both arms again before spoiling the fun. It’s been only a week now since we got back home.”

“Well when do you think it might be time to let the party train grind to a halt to check the cargo its got in the back?” “I think I might just start.” the orange girl answers before strolling off towards the hall.

Waltzing right through their hallway does Mally head towards the slightly cracked open door set along the very end of the hall; the roller bladder slowly pushing the door open and letting the hallway light seep into the darkened room. “Roy...You in here?” she says out tot he dark, baiting nothing but silence. Among peering through the dark recesses do a pair of violet glowing eyes emerge from the void; the silhouette they belong to lumbering closer as they stare upon the young lady. Finally pushing the bedroom wide open does the hallway light flood through the room and reveal the purple angel himself standing before the girl; Roy looking to her with a calming smile and uttering:

“Hey there.”

As the merc starts to drink the glass of milk held in his arm of pure black, the orange lass slowly steps into his bedroom as she asks:

“Hey Roy...So uh, h-how have ya been feeling this past week with your new arm?”

“Holy shit. It’s been so fucking great. I didn’t think I’d miss having both arms this badly. Plus with all that my new arm is capable off, I’m finding new ways to put it to use that his old limb could only gestural feint over; some uses far more pleasurable than before.”

“Yeah, I get it. You can have sex with people using your arm. What I’m really asking here is if you’ve felt even the slightest bit off since it came bursting out yer side? Any odd or upsetting thoughts going through your head...like more depraving than usual?” Mally retells. “Eh...outside of wondering if a dead body could be stuffed inconspicuously inside a recliner for about a week without no one noticing, haven’t really had much like that on the mind.” “Any physical pain or altercations?”

“Hmm...Nope.”

“Really?...Take your hoodie off then.”

“Whoa, whoa, Mal. I know were not blood related. But I still see you as a little sister so that’d be pretty damn wro-”

“Just take it off!”

“Alright, fine. Jesus.” the merc complies with, starting to slip off his treasure purple hood.

Upon finally beholding her brother’s bare chest do the skater’s eyes widen as her pupils shrink, nearly falling over as she screams out through the house:

“Holy shit!”

“Mally! What did I say about cussing in the hou- Oh my god!” the mom comes over to scold, though left just as taken aback when beholding the same sight as her daughter. Both of them are left horrified when discovering numerous black veins that run right across the purple merc’s bare chest like an encroaching infection and covering his upper body; Roy left wondering to both of them:

“The hell are you girl’s screaming about?” “You can’t be serious.” Mally utters.

“Honey, have you checked yourself in the mirror lately?” the mom questions with quiet worry. “Oh, you mean all these going through my bod. Pretty damn cool, right?”

“No!” the blue haired mother blurts out.

“I-is-is that-I Iiis all that even hurting you, making you bleed out or something!” Mally asks. “Chill, alright. I’ve never felt better. All this is just fine.”

“It’s pulsating veins are literally rooting through your body!” the mom adds.

“Oh my god. I seriously can’t believe you two. I finally gotten a break after all the messed up bull I gone through and your practically demonizing the prize I won at the end. Can’t you people be happy that I got an arm again, one that’s better than the old one?” Roy complains. “Roy, were not worried about you having a new arm. We’re worried about what it’s doing to you.” the mom specifies. “How do you two know it ain’t doing anything bad, maybe all this black veins going through my bod is improving me like nanomachines making him stronger; like that one guy in Metal Gear Rising. What was his name again? How the hell am I forgetting his name?” “We need to see a doctor about this.” the mom claims. “Mom, what would a doctor even start to make of this? I doubt they could give a feasible diagnosis over something this outlandishly dark appendage that came spurting out.” her daughter mentions. “What else can we do about it?” the blue haired woman questions back. ‘Uh...Alex said that this thing was made up of the same stuff he was. But that really doesn’t say much. Roy, you got his number right? Think giving him a call might be best on the table.” the skater comes to. “Already tried. Every call just goes to voice mail. Can’t sense him anywhere in Town either. Fact, he’s been off the grid since we got back. Hope the little gremlin hasn’t gotten into anything serious.”

“Right, fine. With that option out, we’ll just have to stop by a couple friends to see if they can help. But who to see first?” the skater wonders aloud. The merc suddenly snaps his fingers as he flashes a smile, stating how:

“Senator Armstrong! That’s what his name was.”

The very first stop that both Roy and Mally take under this investigation is with the potion witch herself, Serena; who they meet in the Townsville Library. More specifically within the recently uncovered underbelly of the library filled with enchanting books and mystical tomes. Sliding her finely polished nail across the wall of ancient hardback, the witch pulls out a lone book straight from the shelves; all the while telling the two behind her how:

“I seriously can’t thank you two enough for discovering this incredible collection hidden away underneath the library. All the new potion recipes that I’ve gotten from their pages have been one hot seller after another since you two dug it up.” “Ain’t no big deal. Really we just stumbled onto this by complete accident. I just hope the clean up crew removed all the trap set up in here.” the orange skater responds. Right on that mark do they all then here the sound of a magical explosion go off along the side; all of them peeking right over to find one of the library goers having his lower torso replaced with that of a spider, all while scream out in an utter panic. “Ah! Ah! Oh god! Why!?” the poor bastard shouts as a batch of silk spews out from his fresh new abdomen.

“So...What’s this little book stop gotta do with what came bursting out my side?” Roy get back on track with. “During one of my little glazes through this uncovered library, I stumbled across a tome of Mythological Chinese stories. One of them kinda reminds me of your arm in a strange way.”

“Where’s that.” Mally questions. “Think I last saw that Tome along the very back of the right side of the library. It might be the one sitting in the middle of the shelf.” “Kay, gimme a sec here.” the purple merc tells them, casting forth his arm of pitch black out beyond the railing and right across the outlook; stretching straight out to the other side. Slithering through sections does the arm slide past several other library goers, each one of them left astonished as the limb moves past. Skimming along the spines of every single book on the shelf does the merc finally pull out one in particular labeled as “The mythical fables of the ancient east” and withdraws the tome back to his side. “This it?” “Yep. The very same one.” the potion witch confirms. “You know what that story you mentioned says?” Mally asks. “Mm. I’ve olny read about a paragraph or two while on my recipe hunt.”

“That case. Guess we better just crack this thing open and feast on the festering brain food dwelling inside.” the merc goes. “Roy, dial it down for god sake.” his sister tells him as they both head over towards a desk.

Slapping the old book right onto the ancient stone library desk do the two of them get started in the table of context as Serena tells them that:

“Alright you two. I’ll be looking through more of the shelves if you need me.” “Careful of tripwires along the floor.” Mally warns her with as they part. Cracking the tome right open, the two of them immediately begin their search through the table of contents; reading out the titles of numerous legends such as: “The Oni and the flowerpot” “The natural Maiden of white snow” “The myth of the True eye Hawk bow” “The meeting of the Nord and the Imperial Lord”. “Ah...Oh, here might be something, “The tale of the Samurai and the black demon.” the orange young lady grabs her brother’s attention with.

“Long ago in an ancient land, a great and powerful mass of black had descended from the heavens and arose as a powerful shape shifting master of darkness; determined to dominate the land of China and all who dwell within with unspeakable evil power unmatched. Before the mystical land could be swallowed by such unrelenting darkness, the land’s lord sent away his only son and the one katana of evil’s bane out from their homeland so that his heir would escape to one day defeat this powerful and liberate his homeland. Through out every corner of the globe has this young heir hone his skills with many masters as his guide; his abilities and way of the blade growing alongside his age throughout the many years.

After a long 15 years of grueling training, the boy, now a fully fledged samurai, was ready to return home; determined to free his people from the monstrous evil that had scarred the land of the east. Among his return upon a horse of white; the powerful demon stared down upon the Samurai as he had stepped forth to appose him; the monster burning eyes staring down upon the Samurai as he unsheathed the blade of evil’s bane. The battle for not just the Samurai’s homeland, but for the world over had finally begun its finale.

Long and harrowing was their fight, the demon assuming many forms in opposition to the Samurai; who with fleet foot, tore through the monster’s very form that no other mortal could. No matter what form the demon had taken, no matter what trickery or power it had fought back with, the monster of darkness could not stand against the holy weapon of the Samurai; the katana slicing off piece after piece of the demon’s body. In the final moments of the grueling battle did the demon lay helpless before the Samurai; it body scattering to dust when the last blow had been struck. Finally, after decades of suffering had the demon been defeated and the land of the east free from its harrowing evil; the Samurai, reclaiming his kingdom and bringing forth a long awaited age of prosperity and peace.

Yet despite this victory over the demon of evil, its remains are left scattered throughout the world; ever seeking, ever yearning to be whole once more with its very kin. Yet for what reason does it continue to live? To regain control over the world it once sought to rule, or to return from the very stars it once came to be. Only time shall bestow upon us all such an answer.”

Upon finishing this tale of triumph and warning, Mally is left taken aback by all that they have read; sitting back along the side of a stone shelf as she goes:

“My god. Can’t believe that demon just came down and took over China in just a day. If Serena thinks that monster might be related, what’s that even say about what’s attached to your side?...What’s it even say about Alex?” “Come on Mal. You’re taking this way too seriously. You really think this charcoal Spaghetti strand attached to my side is gonna turn me into an unsympathetic horrible tyrant?”

In thinking over this does Mally try to take a few moments to think over her brother’s answer; Roy’s expression souring with each passing second. “For fuck sa-. Fine, if you still on the fence, then how bout we stop over at Hank’s and have him call up Melvin. That boy got a sweet set of demon hands like my arm and the worst he’s ever been was a compact ball of insecurity and anger issues wrapped up on a 14 year old twinkus. And that was even before he got them.”

“Checking up on him might not be a bad idea. Last time we hung out wasn’t exactly a pleasant spelunking trip.” the orange skater agrees.

Along the suburban skies above does a young boy strapped into a decked out wheelchair glide through the clear blue skies; the chair bound boy yipping and cheering with the sort of glee a 10 year old on Christmas would make after seeing all the presents in the living room. Right below this airborne lad does both Mally and Roy finish up speaking to the chairbound pilots cousin; Melvin leaning along the side of Hank’s abode as the orange skater finishes explaining how:

“That’s pretty much how Roy’s new arm came out. Came straight out of his side like an actual chestburster.”

“Shit man. Way I wound up getting my hands ain’t nowhere as gory as that. Worse I got was some broken bones and bruises.” the young man claims. “Think you could go into detail about how ya got them?” the merc request. “Nah, fuck that. I ain’t tellin.”

“Can you at least tell us if you’ve felt anything strange or off since ya gottem. Any physical pains or strange thoughts going through your head.” Mally then asks. “Outside a couple of mildly weird dream. Got nothin going on.” Melvin ultimately concludes. “Huh...good to here at least.”

Its then that their attention is drawn up to the young man gliding in the skies above them, pulling off rolls and loop de loops as his cheering echoes across the neighborhood. “The hell he’s so giddy for.” Roy wonders. “Couple a guys came over the other day and asked him to join in some little club and he’s been flying high since.” Melvin answers. “Who came over?”

“The Vanguard League!” all of them hear he chairbound genius cry out, the three peering over to watch as Hank comes in for a landing; his wheels kicking up a cloud of dirt as he skids to a stop before them all.

“They came over!? That’s incredible, Hank! What position did you land a spot in?” Mally ecstatically questions. “Ya’ll looking at the new head of the Technological Department. Making new gadgets and inventions to help fight crime, save lives, and help people worldwide; all alongside the greatest of young minds this generation has to offer. I can’t wait to get started after the announcement this coming weekend.” “Had a feeling they’d come around to check you out sooner or later. I don’t think they picked a better boy for the job.” Mally congratulates Hank with, the chair bound genius letting out a bright smile. “What about you Melvin, you think about standing alongside your cuz and the other heroes?” the boy then questions. “You shitting me, right? You think you’d catch me being bossed around like that? Hell no.”

“What about you Mal?” “Uh. Leaning on it, but I ain’t too sure which department to join.”

“Hey, no pressure; just good luck with whatever ya choose. Meantime, I better spruce up and polish up my equipment before the weekend announcement comes around. Catch you later.” the chairbound genius bids farewell with as he presses a couple of buttons on his chair; an exhaust along the back firing out and rocketing him right on inside. From listening to several things crash and break from inside, Melvin decides to race right on after while exclaiming:

“Dammit, the hell did we talk about doing that indoors!?”

“Whelp, guess we don’t got anything to worry about. See ya.” Roy claims while in the midst of taking off out into the air. Before the violet angel could ascend too far up into the cloudless skies, the shell of a yo yo wraps itself right around the merc’s very leg; Roy peering down from the string to see Mally ready to bring him right back down. With but a single tug does the skater manage to send the purple merc straight down towards the earth; the angel crashing right down into the grassy backyard in a plume of dirt. “Yeah, were nowhere near done yet. We ain’t closing this case til we figure out what this arm of yours is made of and where it came from.” the orange lass claims. “Agh! That book we read up on said that whatever it was came from space; serious fucking doubt you know anyone else that came from beyond the star.” Roy explains while climbing out from the dirt, soon finding his sister wearing a knowing smile.

Traveling deep within the very heart of the woodlands just outside the city, the two of them step right on inside of a downed space ship; whereupon the violet angel beholds the alien trio that his sister had befriended.

“Hot damn, Mally. Can’t believe you were keepin this little part of the woods all to yourselves and didn’t bother saying a thing to us.” Roy smoothly exclaims. “Figured you might’ve sensed them all out anyway. Surprised you didn’t know until now.” Mally acknowledges. “You kidding. With all the weird shit that goes on in this town already? How you figure I was gonna stumble on this?” “Also thought they might enjoy the privacy and not have every government agent or crackpot conspiracy nutter come knocking at their door and demand to know what sort of part of congress they control or whatever excuse they pull outta their ass.”

“Still, not hard to imagine why you and your teach would want to keep these choice pieces of intergalactic intimates all to themselves; you serious stumbled onto one hell of a galactic goldmine with this set of sweet sweet alien asses. Definitely like to double down on the fish guy and the girl with the eyeliner in an intergalactic seafood platter; maybe finish off with the hooded piece of alien booty as dessert right there. This spread here’s the fucking motherload, and papa Roy here don’t want a piece, he want’s the whole fucking buffet.” the purple angel elaborates aloud, the three growing further upset and creeped out as she continues speaking.

Amidst the merc’s overwhelming horniness does a comically oversized wrench come flying and hits the back of the violet angel’s head; Roy holding the spot he got struck as he violently trembles. “Fucking…”

“While it’s flattering that you primates have at least decent tastes in knowing a fine catch when you see one. I am very aware when the line of thirst starts to cross harassment territory.” Vain assures. “Seriously kid, did you really just stop by just to have this purple prick gawk at us like an overly excited Splartian Hound in heat; ready to thrust its privates into anything that can bother pulsating in view. Cause I thought the fact that were stuck on this damn rock was getting you off enough.” Catastrophe questions. “Actually, we were hoping you three wound help us out with trying to figure out what exactly my bro’s new arm is made of.” the orange skater finally answers. “Really? I thought that human’s just grow their limbs back when one of them’s broken, just rip it right off to have another one come in the following week.” the charming alien fish boy comments. “That is...nowhere near how human biology works. Seriously hope you weren’t planning on testing that.” Mally worries. Right on that very queue does one of the boxes in the room tip over and partially reveal an unconscious man stowed away within; moaning aloud as he attempts to climb out with one of his arms taken away and stitched up wounds. Discovering this, Mally turns her upset glare over to the trio, Cat claiming that:

“Hey, don’t give us any bull. Dumbass just seriously wondered in here.”

“We gave him some amnesics to make him forget.” Tizzy adds. Clutching the barely conscious man by his shoulders does Cat stroll over to the door while dragging the poor guy along the floor; the alien girl tossing the guy straight out into the woods.

“Why you up and figure it was best to come here to try a figure out the hell is your bro’s arm.” Tizzy asks. “Well, one book we read on it mentioned that this stuff wound up coming from the depths of space and was hoping that-”

“Oh yes, I see. Since were not from your planet, that would make us the knowledge keepers of all that occupy alongside the stars. Is that it?” Vain accuses. “I was thinking since your parents were intergalactic conquerors, figured that maybe they’ve seen something like this before during a conquest.” Mally quickly gives context for. “Afraid your shit outta like, neither of our mom’s speak a mere mention of whatever disgusting growth came out of your brother’s side; pretty sure if we did, they’d tell us in the form of a terrifying bedtime story told to make ya piss yourself.” Cat explains. “Indeed. Truly humiliating.” “Vain, didn’t you wind up soaking your entire mattress once?” Tizzy wonders. “That was when we got back from swimming and you know it!”

“Kay here. Doesn’t this ship has some advance tech straight out from the realms of a shitty 90’s cartoon? You guys gotta at least got anything that can tell us what his arm’s made off?” Roy then interjects with. “If this ship didn’t take a crashing nosedive straight down into your planets crap that you call soil, we wouldn’t be talking right now. You really think that they wound up getting anything working in the span of a month since we touched down on this overpopulated rock in the middle of the space boonies?”

“Actually, I just finished getting the Material Analyzer up and running a few days ago. We could try that?” Tizzy then mentions.

“Ugh, fine whatever. The sooner you start, the sooner you leave. Make it quick.”

Somewhere within the ship does Roy have his arm of demonic pure black stuck right in a spherical chamber as numerous lasers and lights scan every single inch of them limb; all the data it collects showing up on a screen outside the chamber that Tizzy carefully observe. From this high tech device, a small beep them sounds off; queuing Tizzy to tell them:

“And the analysis is finished. You can take it out now.” “Holy shit finally. Started getting numb after the last half hour. Stuck my hand up something longer, but that’s a story for another day.” Roy states as he slithers his fresh pitch black arm out of the analysis machine’s inner chamber. “So, whatcha come up with?” the orange skater asks. “Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything else belonging to your brother inside. No bones, veins, blood, nothing. Kinda shocking given how close to unstable it is.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, there’s one detail that popped up that bothered me. The genetic make up of his arm primarily consists of strung together chemicals compounds such as Epinephrine, glutamate, Cortisol, Adrenaline, and slight traces of Serotonin. The stuff in your brains that make you feel angry, sad, and scared.” “Is that seriously... why did a bunch of emotional brain juice burst out from Roy’s side and solidify into a working appendage?”

“Maybe that’s something you should ask him.”

The alien suggesting this, the orange skater turns over to her purple brother to ask of him:

“Roy, what might’ve been going through your head moments before that thing came out of you ?” “Well...ya know how we were fighting that giant wood guardian in that hidden Jurassic land and how Alex got fucking impaled right through the stomach?”

“Yeah. I still remember how I felt when I saw that. But how did that wind up triggering you to grow an arm?”

“When I beheld the site of the little devil on a stick, something flashed before my eyes; an image that I felt burst out from the depths of my soul. Two figures, one stabbing the other through the stomach, one wearing a gleeful smile while the other leaked tears from above its horrified frown; both staring out with their hollow white eyes. That alone reminded me of a site that I kept buried deep down for years; and it all suddenly just came up at once like an explosion of confusion, regret, and rage. The closest I could describe it being like would be his mind of the proverbial traumatic edge; teetering on the cusp of madness.”

Upon hearing the purple merc elaborate on the thoughts going through his head is the entire room left at a complete silence; Mally gazing to her violet brother with a mixture of remorse, pity and regretful guilt. Before the orange girl could give even a little word of comfort to him do all of them hear a sharp whistle cut straight through the quiet; the three peering back towards the door to discover Catastrophe leaning against the doorway. “Now that shit’s a full season of a show right there. Closest thing to entertainment I got since crash down on this pathetic little rock.”

“Cat.” Tizzy lightly snaps out. “Something about my emotional trauma funny to ya?” Roy then questions. “You kidding? It’s like one of those shitty characters with a bad backstory crowbarred in to make idiots think they’re deep. Fucking riot right there.”

Amidsts stepping up against the hooded alien girl, the violet angel’s wings sprout forth as the fingers along his pitch black arm starts to get antsy; going on to trash talk on how:

“Guess being on your mama’s little warship for most of your life, ya never really got to feel what its like to be on the other end of life’s massive jackboot. Never really feeling what its like have shit throw right at ya. The fucked up thoughts going through yer head as the memories of all that ya lost come flooding out and crashing onto your psyche til your heads on the verge of melting from the madness…You wanna know what that sort of self inflicting degradation can feel like?”

“That a threat?” Cat wonders with a confident smirk; both of them stand face to face one another as the two give off an overgrowing sense of rising tension. Right as Roy was in the midst of transforming his new arm, something along his other side takes a gentle hold upon the merc’s other limb and breaches through to him, quelling the building rage within; the purple angel gazing off to the side to discover his little sister staring up to him with the look of “Please don’t do it” in her eyes.

In seeing the desperate plea set in his sisters eyes does the purple merc let out a small sigh as he finally breaks away from the antagonizing alien, marching right past Catastrophe and out to the corridor; the violet angel punching the side of the doorway hard enough to leave a hell of a dent. As Mally takes her leave after her pissed off brother, Tizzy approaches her sister with a hammer and tells her to: “Come on. You’re helping me hammer that dent out.” “Like hell I am. Why the hell should I fix something that our guest broke in his little pissy fit?” “Pretty sure you threw a pretty similar one when vain used your little blanket as a dung disposal cleaner.” “You swore never to bring that up!” the two of them hear their semi aquatic brother shout out to them.

As both brother and sister exit out from the downed spacecraft, the orange lass between them starts to apologize with:

“Roy...I-I’m so sorry. I just can’t believe that I didn’t catch on what was bugging you sooner than later. I-I didn’t realize that you were thinking about what happened at-”

“Mally, chill. Ain’t know way you could’ve known the sort of shit that was going through my head. I get you were just worried. But I’ll be just fine. Kay?”

“Hey! What happened back then effected Tore and I too. You ain’t alone on this...Anything ya wanna talk about, we’re here for ya.” “Hm hm hm...Thank’s Mal.” Roy returns with, a heartwarming smile etched across the merc’s face. “No prob...So...You thinkin about headin home?”

“Nah. Still got some stuff to take care of. I’ll be home a little later.”

“Kay. Just don’t get into too much trouble.”

Warning her brother of this does the orange skater swiftly don her skating gear and take off out into the woods; Roy in turn sprouting forth his angelic black wings and taking off into the orange twilight skies.

Among his glide above the nearly thick woodlands, Roy flies back out towards the city of Townsville with the setting sun glistening its twilight gaze at his back; his smile starting to dissipate the farther he flies. “You’ve been awfully quiet about all this.” he suddenly says aloud to break the silence. Out from the depths of his mind does a woman’s voice echo through the merc’s head; responding in kind to him with:

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hera, you usually just chime in in the middle of all this to give some sort of support or to stop me from doing something arguably reprehensible. What’s the deal this time?”

“Roy, have you ever thought a goddess such as I has other duties and responsibilities to tend to then communing with the only mortal I can converse with?”

“...You hiding something aren’t ya?”

“What!? Preposterous! What would urge you to accuse me of something like that?”

“Even with only having clocked in about 16 and a half years in this fucked up game some of us have to call life; I’ve been around long enough to see the warming signs of someone having a long list of secrets hidden somewhere in the bunkers of their head. And a goddess like you without a hell of a doubt’s gotta have some stowed away that vault ya call a head. With what’s on me having been once part of a mighty monster that nearly overtook the world; you think that keeping an eye on even a piece of it would warrant obligation. But Guess not, guess we’ll just blind move along through life; leaving me ignorant of what a threat this could possibly grow into until its far too late and lives are lost. But hey, what’s it with mortals wanting to question what may become of them midst affairs which affect their world, right?”

“Roy, believe me when I say I can’t bring myself to simply tell you with my own words. But if you really wish for the truth and what your arm has to do with me; then I can point you in the right direction.” the goddess in his head assures. “Eh, fair enough. Lead the way.”

The night upon Townsville had come to blanket the city in a think darkness, with nothing but the shadows to accompany the roaming night owls. Atop the mayor building, a dark winged figure hovers down to the very top of its dome rooftop; where upon its arm transforms into a sharp blade that cuts right through its very stone. Cutting a piece right off the roof, the figure lifts the piece right off and slips right on inside.

Along the inside the main office is the door unlocked when a substance of black fills the hole and turns the lock; letting the door creak open and letting the figure walk right in. Within does the figure behold the usual fittings of a mayoral office; books, chairs, desk, computer, bowl of mints, nothing out of the ordinary. And nothing to stop the intruder from venturing over to the desktop and taking a seat behind the screen. With the press of a button does the entire monitor let out an incredible bright light; Roy shielding his site from the intense glow as his eyes adjust to the glow, peeking between his fingers to behold his first obstacle. The password. Rather than blindly attempting to guess the password locking the desktop, the purple merc instead shoves his hand right into his pants pocket and pulls out what appears to be a lone thumb drive; plugging the drive right in and watching the password box fill with numerous letters and numbers until coming to the right code. As the desktop starts to load in, Roy is met with a site that honest to god just baffles him to no end. Is...is this seriously running on Windows 7? That’s 2010’s old. This a government owned desktop! Why the fuck haven’t they updated it yet for security!? Everytime on one of these government owned consoles, they always just have the most out dated Operating systems. One of the computers in the France federal agent building was running on Windows XP for shit sake!? Why!? It doesn’t make any god damn-...Gah! Whatever, not the problem here.

Getting over that strange conundrum, Roy takes the mouse and clicks right into the file explorer, where he starts his search right into the documents. See here...Billing info, Construction plans, Federal investigation, Homoerotic Fanfiction...Incident report. Clicking onto this folder is the purple merc astonished to discover the list of city incidents a literal mile long, the square of the scroll bar being absolutely tiny. Hmm...Dino monster attack, Fire monster attack, slime monster attack, Alien monster attack. Shit, alotta monster attacks here; practically makes up most of the list. Lets try sorting by date. Rearranging the reports by the date they had been documented, one title in particular catches the merc’s attention. “The lady of pink against the Cerberus. 1984” Interesting...Let’s have ourselves a peek here. Clicking right on this title, the document soon loads and present its very text through a writing application, starting his read on the incident beginning with:

“A terrible storm bellows from the east as horrible fires burn through Townsville, centers and businesses crumbling at the seems as a gigantic, dark three headed beast topples everything over in its rampage. Police and military efforts seemed ineffective as fired ammunition seemed to be devoured under the horrible cerberus’s tar like hide. Despite efforts to evacuate, few people escapes from the Chaos as dozens were left injured or burned; or a rather cruel mix of both. As hope for the city had waned to its worst, a female figure donning a heavenly pink glow had flown out from the roaring flames to face the terrible beast; her long blonde hair flowing in the wind. The best this report could describe the ensuing battle was of gods straight from tales of greek mythology; a recreation of the gods against the titans playing out before mortal eyes. With the godly woman of bright pink keeping the terrible beast of black at bay, officials were able to effectively evacuate civilians more effectively.

From what military that stayed behind described, the woman in pink had battled the vicious beast of dark with energy of bright light; her conjured weapons seemingly damaging the monster than any of our conventional weapons could only hope to do. Yet despite the warriors best efforts to defeat this great evil that had descended down upon the city, beast had ultimately worn down the woman midst hours of fighting; the horrible monster in the end devouring the woman in but a single gulp. All hope had seemed utterly crushed as the black demon had cackled upon its very victory; soon turning its burning eyes to the units that had stayed behind. All three of its heads bored a sinister smile as it crawled its way out towards the military unit; some of them fleeing from the seems on its approach while other’s stood their ground, knowing full well there was little they could do to escape from its wrath. Just as the three headed beast was on the verge of striking down the unit, the bowels of its stomach had began to glow a light of faint pink; a glow that quickly began to grow larger and brighter every passing second. In a matter of seconds did this very light explode in a flash of bright pink; blinding every single soldier that stood before the beast of darkness. Once the overwhelming glow had finally dimmed, the unit peered back to find the Cerberus that had terrorized the city was now but in pieces; all with no sign of the brave woman in bright pink light nowhere seen among the remains.

When the cleanup crew had arrived on the seen, most of the remains of the beast had been successfully picked up and stored away from researching purposes; those on the scene had described each piece of the monster as alive, pulsating and wriggling like worms plucked out from the soil. Other’s had witnessed some parts of the monster’s remains slipping away into the night and had attempted to contain every piece before they could escape; while most of the creatures remains had been successfully stowed away in containment, staff have admitted that few pieces had escaped into the unknown. What those pieces of the terrible beast had fled to or what they plan to do is as of yet unknown; something of which may never be realized, else that night may just be only the beginning.”

Its after having read every single paragraph of this report does Roy slump down into the office chair; processing every single detail that he had just read. “Can’t believe it…You gave up living alongside your family just so they could have a future.” Roy awe’s aloud.

“Indeed. And it was with that very sacrifice that I had been chosen to become a goddess.” Its in the midst of this realization that a small, uneasy chuckle starts to escape from him as he leans forward onto the mayor’s desk, Hera wondering in worry:

“Roy?...What’s wrong?” “What’s it worth becoming a god if it meant you couldn’t hold the people you love in your arms anymore; to not longer cherish their very presence as they take in yours? Why not just move on? Why not end it? Suppose those were your final moments inside that thing, weren’t they?” “Roy, when I was offered the position of a goddess. I was told it would involve ensuring the balance of the magical through the universe. Doing such, I could ensure those she left behind had a chance to live for themselves. It has not been easy since then...everyday, I wish to speak them once more, to hold my precious daughter and grandchildren in her arms.”

With all that he had discovered of the very beast that his new arm was once a part of, the violet angel gazes into the dark abyss held within the palm of his hand. “What do ya want done with it?”

“Pardon?” Hera questions. “Its thanks to the monster this arm came from that ya can’t go back to her family; to embrace the ones you loves in you hands. Just knowing that a piece of it is attached to the only person of this world you can converse with must piss you off to no end. Wanting to make sure what happened that night doesn’t befall anyone else.” “I assure to you Roy, that what happened to me that night was something I had decided for myself. I had chosen to give up my life so that others could live. But to make that choice for someone else...it something she could never bring myself to do. Whatever you decide, I’ll stand with you on it.” “No matter where it had came from, this damn thing had taken all the grief and anger that had wielded inside me and had given it a form; but only under my rage has it appeared and obeyed. With what Tore said he could do with life. I wonder if this is what I can do with what’s here?” “And is that what you wish out of it?” the goddess questions. Its in being asked this does the merc’s arm of pitch black clutch into a tight fist, the angel’s uncertain glare transforming into a determined grin. “That’s what it should be.”

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Thought that a little downtime would be appropriate here after the last chapter. Not a lot going on here beside a quick piece of lore and chemistry between characters. Though I purposely set this Chapter up as a repeat of the one where Roy was coping with the loss of his arm, thought it'd be thematically appropriate here.

#lillaxtrigger #Young Hope #callyieverse

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